


Blueshift

by bellmare



Category: Persona 3, Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tokyo Ghoul, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Spoilers, Subtext
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellmare/pseuds/bellmare
Summary: Everything about the past, about being human, feels like a distant dream; little more than a reddened heat-haze memory dispersed all too easily into the night.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 27





	1. April

**Author's Note:**

> _Just one more thing  
>  Please hold me down  
> Just one more thing  
> Keep searching_  
> \-- Good Tiger, Blueshift.

**april (the cherry blossom mix).**

The girl at the dorm regards her with suspicion. Overhead, the lights flicker back on and the other girl breaths out a sigh of relief. 

Minami thinks she sees a faint reddish cast in the other girl's eyes, seconds before the dorm lobby is bright again.

She can hear the two other students talking as she fills out a sheaf of paperwork at the reception desk. The first girl sounds hostile, her voice taut; the second merely sounds put-upon. The pair seem to be having a whispered conference about Minami's presence at the dorm.

_There has to be some kind of mistake,_ the first girl is hissing. She hitches an unconvincing half-smile to her face when Minami looks at her. _Is it really okay for her to be here?_

_I guess you'll see soon enough,_ the second one says, the taller of her two. Then, louder, she says, "if you're done with the paperwork, Takeba will show you to your room."

"Senpai," the other girl -- Takeba -- says. Her mouth is set in an unhappy line. Minami runs her thumb along the teeth of her room key but before she can say anything else, Takeba's shoulders deflate. "Never mind. Follow me."

Minami gathers up her belongings and trails after Takeba. The halls are eerily quiet, for such a large building. She can hear the hum of ambient machinery -- air conditioning and lights and electricity -- and the occasional whisper of rushing water. If she strains her ears, she can hear the faint sound of music -- something with a low and bassy beat -- from behind one of the slightly-ajar doors on the second floor, accompanied by a rhythmic puffing and the muffled metallic clink of heavy equipment on carpet. It's silent as the two of them climb up the stairs; a step creaks slightly underfoot when Minami treads over it, and it does nothing to ease the tense silence.

They arrive in front of Minami's room on the third floor. There, Takeba hovers for several uncertain seconds. "I. I guess I'll see you in the morning," she says at last. "We'll head to Gekkoukan together."

"Thank you--" Minami says, but Takeba's already left, marching back towards her room. Minami waits until she hears the door creak and click shut, before entering her own room.

.

Takeba is contrite over the commute to school. "Hey, um. I'm sorry about last night," she says, following Minami's gaze out the window, taking in the sweeping sea view and the expanse of mainland dwindling into the distance. "It was late, y'know, and we weren't really expecting anyone." She makes a face, and something unreadable passes over her features before being wiped away. "Or rather, I wasn't expecting anyone, but it's not really about me. It's just that, um, our dorm is, uh, special. Not just anyone can stay there. You usually need, um, some special circumstances."

"Oh," Minami says, still staring into the horizon. The skies are bright and blue, streaked with puffy white clouds. It's a lovely spring day; the cherry blossoms have just started to bloom all over the city. "Like elite scholarship students and all that?"

"N-no!" Takeba flushes when Minami glances askance at her, then seems to think better of it. "I mean, maybe. Kinda. Sorry. I wish I could explain better."

"Don't worry about it," Minami says, and she means it. She doesn't miss the strange, pinched look around Takeba's eyes. 

.

At least the other students are rather more friendly. Or perhaps Junpei is just pleased that she got assigned to sit near him, and spends most of the day shooting her covert glances.

"Wait, wait wait wait, hold up. You're at the Iwatodai dorm too? Yuka-tan!" He rounds on Takeba, agog. He clutches at his chest, melodramatically sagging back in his seat. "C'mon, that's just harsh. How could you?! Why didn't anyone tell me?!"

Takeba wrinkles her nose. "Ugh. How many times have I told you to quit calling me that? Maybe if you didn't hole up in your room playing video games all the time, you'd be more aware of the world around you."

"Yeah, but, like, that's not the point. The point is that you didn't see fit to introduce me to a new cutie under our own roof! I'm hurt, Yuka-tan, totally gutted. I thought we were friends!"

Minami glances over at Takeba; her expression could best be described as thunderous. The muscles along the side and back of her neck are tense, standing out in cords under her skin. "She shouldn't be there, Stupei," she says through her teeth. "Think about the bigger picture for a moment, won't you?"

They share a look. Junpei's eyes widen. "Shit, wait. Huh? You mean she's not-- she isn't--"

Takeba presses her lips together; her face is white and drawn and she shakes her head by a fraction of an inch, just once. Up front, their next teacher sets her books down, calling for order from the chattering class. Minami looks ahead, pretending she doesn't notice the way Junpei and Takeba stare each other down, their gaze heavy and lingering. There's a crease between Junpei's brows. He glances first at Minami then back at Takeba. This time, his expression is something completely different; gone is the easy and good-natured smile when he first introduces himself, or the more eager look he gets when he discovers they're dorm-mates. There's something that looks almost like distress on his face as he mouths something out.

_Just what the hell are they thinking?_

.

Minami wakes up one night in a cold sweat, twisted and tangled in her sheets. Her skin feels clammy and her hair is plastered to her face. The digital clock by her bed reads two minutes past midnight.

Her stomach growls, and that's the hint Minami needs to get out of bed. It's been days since she's last eaten -- she'd made sure to eat well prior to arriving at Iwatodai, just in case she doesn't have enough time to start scoping out the shops for things she can actually consume. It's always difficult moving to a new town or city -- and harder still to forge that first ghoul connection, who may be able to point her towards securing a food supply. Minami doesn't like the thought of killing people; it feels like a violation, almost, of the fact that she, too, used to be human.

Even if she doesn't really remember it.

Everything about her past, her childhood, being human, feels like a distant dream; a heat-haze memory, growing ever more indistinct the moment she tries to have a better look at it. Were it not for the little things in life, she can almost be convinced that maybe, just maybe, she'd been a ghoul all along.

It's the little things, like the memory of food and the way it tastes -- the ripe sweetness of summer fruit and winter berries, the milkiness of a soft cream and the butterscotch notes of a caramel pudding; the salty-sour tang of pickled plum and flakes of smoked salmon pressed into a riceball; the satisfying crunch and crispness of salad leaves laced with tangy dressing. It's the feeling of fullness and contentment, of being able to drink anything but coffee to stave away the hunger that gnaws at the pit of her stomach, always ready to rear its head if she ignores it for too long. But, despite all the years, Minami isn't ready to give up her human past entirely. It's what compels her to eat human food -- even as the taste grows foul and bitter at the back of her throat, sometimes sickly sweet like something on the verge of turning to rot; even as the food grows heavy in her guts and makes her stomach heave and turn. It's a performance for the sake of the many humans whose lives she passes through, never lingering long enough in one place to arouse suspicion. Perhaps one day, there will be a magical cure; perhaps one day, humans and ghouls can coexist, without the need to devour one another -- be it literal, or metaphorical. It's with that belief in mind that allows her to smile and coo excitedly over the picture-perfect, too-beautiful-to-eat crepes bought from trendy boutiques, or oversize fruit parfaits, decadent with drizzled syrup and fluffy cream and studded with candy, as though it's the tastiest thing she's ever eaten.

She pads soft-footed out of her room and down the corridor, heading for the vending machine at the end of the hall; one of the first things she'd taken note of was the variety of canned coffee stocked there. As she's considering her options, she hears the sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs. Takeba grinds to a halt in front of Minami, panting. "Oh, good, you're awake. Listen, you gotta come with me, there's no time-- follow me!"

Minami holds her tongue and silently follows her as they hurtle downstairs -- and then repeats the procedure as they barrel back upstairs after discovering they're being hemmed in. It's only once they're out on the rooftop that Takeba lets out a shuddering breath and leans back against the door before collapsing down to her knees. Minami notices her legs are shaking.

"What's wrong," she begins, before something crawls up over the rooftop parapet. Grotesque and many-armed, it stinks of blood.

It makes the hunger stab anew at the pit of Minami's stomach.

There's a small, despairing noise behind Minami. She glances back to see Takeba has gotten to her feet -- but her knees are still trembling, almost knocking together. "St-stand back," Takeba says, throwing out an arm. "I'll ... I'll protect you. I'm sorry. I'll try to ... to explain everything ..." Her voice trails off. Her eyes blaze red -- and a kagune blooms bright and red from her shoulders.

The thing on the rooftop advances, crawling forwards on its hands and knees. It leaves a trail of handprints in its wake, dark and tarry, palms separating from the cement with soft, gummy slaps that trail slick, sticky strings glistening in the low light. Takeba seizes Minami by the upper arm, her fingernails biting through Minami's t-shirt and into her skin, hard enough to leave marks. "G-get back!" Takeba says again, this time directed at the creature, and fires a volley of thin, slicing blades at the thing's hands. That seems to enrage it; Takeba's kagune glances off the back of its many arms and it skitters forward, low to the ground and hands grasping, fingers clawing, grabbing on to Takeba's kagune and bearing her upright. She shrieks in fear and shock; Minami can hear the trembling bravado ebbing out of her voice. "No, no, please, no," Takeba is sobbing, thrashing in the trespasser's grip. "No! I won't-- I can't-- I don't want to die! Not now--"

The creature tips back the mask it's wearing -- and _wearing_ is a very nebulous term, for, if anything, its mask is held just off its face by one of its numerous hands. In the moonlight, Minami can see the sickly glint of its teeth. Takeba is crying now -- cursing at the monster that has her in its grasp, and screaming at Minami to run. 

The blood is pounding in Minami's head as she takes in a breath of the bitter city air. It's acrid with the tang of traffic fumes and hot concrete -- but, underlying it all, is the smell of the sea. Her own kagune unfurls from her back, like a frayed scarlet banner in the night. The thing, the monstrous ghoul, whatever it is, slowly looks away from Takeba's pale, bloodless face and meets Minami's eyes.

White floors, white walls, the scream of twisting metal. The itch and prickle of glass on her face and in her hands, the wet bubble in her lungs as she tries to breathe. Blue carpet, blue drapes, soft blue lights. A gloved hand passing over her brow. A masked, featureless face with a curved-slash smile. The whisper of feathers over her skin. The hum of machinery and the blip of monitors, the infernal beat of an inhuman heart.

A sharp and stabbing pain lances through her skull and Minami doubles over, clutching at her head. The other ghoul lets Takeba go -- not so much dropping her as tossing her aside -- and advances on Minami, arms outstretched, querulous. Minami takes one step back, then another; the pressure in her head is almost unbearable; despite the fact that she hasn't eaten for days, she feels like she's going to vomit. A sickly feeling of dread spreads -- first from the pit of her stomach, to the back of her throat -- and she really does retch then, coughing spit and bile onto the concrete. One of the monstrous ghoul's hands reaches out towards her, grasping fingertips inches away from her face. Minami's head feels like it's about to split open. All around her is the stench of blood and metal.

.

**april (the stand and fight! interlude).**

The concrete of the rooftop is still warm from the day -- but it does nothing to dissipate the chill in Yukari's bones. She scrambles upright -- in time to see the transfer student standing perfectly straight and still, staring into the eyes of the monstrous kakuja. Something red and wispy trails in the air behind her; one of her eyes is a bright and livid red -- the same as Yukari's own.

Then Yukari blinks and Arisato is doubled over, moaning in pain as she clutches her head. The kakuja extends one of its many hands and reaches out, as though to touch Arisato's face. Yukari tries to scream a warning, but the fear paralyses her and forces her voice down, suppressing it to a breathy croak. She watches, powerless, as the kakuja's fingertips brush against Arisato's chin, tilting her head up and back -- and then Arisato's posture crumbles and she seems to curl in upon herself. Yukari tries to make herself stand, but her legs feel heavy and lifeless, weighing her down. It's not fair. It's not fair that even now, even despite her best efforts to train herself, to use her power for some good, she can't even help anyone.

A quiet noise, like the whisper of a knife blade falling through the air. Yukari has seen cooking shows before, and she knows those sounds -- the _fwump_ of meat on a cutting-board, flesh being parted by the edge of a cleaver; the grinding of serrated metal teeth against bone; the sharper, tenser sound of severed tendon and cartilage.

One of the kakuja's severed hands drops to the ground with a sickly thud. Then another. There's a bizarre sort of mask over Arisato's head and face now, something shining and jag-jawed with deep eyeholes. Her kagune looks different as well, fanned out behind her in the dark sky, large connected blocks linked together with ropes of vein and sinew that pulse in time with the rhythm of her heart. Arisato whirls -- swift and light and soundless on her feet -- and uses her kagune to club the kakuja down, slamming against its head and upper body. She descends upon it in the same fluid motion, her kagune trailing smoothly through the air. Through the tangle of the kakuja's flailing limbs, Yukari can see reddish flash of kagune and hear the sound of something wet and sticky and crunching, chewing -- and then, the sound of screaming, keening cries. Whether it's Arisato, or the kakuja, or both, she has no idea.

She's dreaming. She has to be. Perhaps when she opens her eyes, she'll still be in her own bed, waking up from just one of the many nightmares she's played through ever since she was a little girl, ever since she learned about what happened to her father.

A soft sound next to her. Yukari's eyes snap open -- to find one of the kakuja's hands has made its way towards her, inching closer by its fingers, in a hideous parody of one of those foreign horror movies. She recoils from it with a cry, just as a shadow falls over the hand and the hem of Yukari's skirt.

She looks up. Arisato is standing before her, silently regarding the hand now trapped beneath her bare foot. Her mask has fallen apart somewhat, pieces and segments sloughing off her head; her kakugan glows a livid and baleful red, the veins standing out in stark relief. Her clothes and hair and mouth are red with blood.

There's no sign of the kakuja.

Arisato stoops to pick up the squirming, writhing hand -- and Yukari shrinks back away from her. Arisato pauses at the movement but straightens without a word. Brings the hand to her mouth, sets her teeth against the surface -- raw and oozing and flayed of skin, strings of muscle and tissue twined around the knuckles, the wrist, the fleshy mound of the palm. The fingers scrabble against her grip, painting red-black streaks across Arisato's face.

Overhead, the moon emerges from behind a passing cloud bank. Yukari's eyes water slightly from the brightness and she squints a little, blinking to clear her vision.

All of a sudden, Arisato's knees buckle and she collapses -- and now her kagune is the one that Yukari saw before, the one flowing out from her shoulder in a blaze of red like a tattered, bloody scarf. She keels over forward and Yukari reaches out to catch her, grabbing hold before Arisato's head can hit the ground. At the same time, the rooftop door bursts open and Mitsuru and Ikutsuki crowd inside, Junpei hanging at their heels. Akihiko takes up the rear, keeping careful distance from Mitsuru.

"Yuka-tan!" Junpei says, but Yukari isn't looking at him. She glares instead at Mitsuru, staring right into her eyes.

"You knew about her, senpai," she says. "You knew all along, didn't you?"

To her credit, Mitsuru doesn't look away. "I'm sorry for keeping this a secret. I'll fill you in and answer any questions you may have shortly, but first -- we need to get Arisato inside."

Nobody says anything -- not even Junpei, who doesn't even let out some characteristic quip or another as he hoists Arisato onto his back, not even making any comment about the fact that she's still in her sleepwear. Silently, Mitsuru offers her hand to Yukari to help her up. Yukari doesn't take it, and hoists herself upright by the parapet instead.

.

**april (the way of life remix).**

When Minami returns to school nearly two weeks later, Junpei makes a big show of fawning over her, meeting her at the front of class and insisting on carrying her bag, going so far as to sweep her chair out for her. Some of the other students laugh, others wink and nudge and whisper amongst themselves; it seems they chalk it down to nothing more than Junpei's usual antics of hitting on a new girl.

"How's our gallant hero feeling?" he asks once Minami's seated. In the seat in front, Takeba takes a textbook out of her bag and bangs it down on the table far louder than necessary.

"Not too shabby," Minami says, only to be interrupted by another bang as Takeba brings out an exercise book and daily planner.

"Hey, c'mon, Yuka-tan, what gives, don't take it out on the poor desk--" Junpei begins. Takeba ignores him and instead turns around in her seat; for a moment, Minami thinks Takeba is going to hit her. Instead, Takeba looks away first.

"Arisato-- no, Minami-san." Takeba stares down at her hands, clenched around the cover of her planner. Her nails are digging into the rosy-gold embossed leather leaving small, crescent-shaped marks. "I should've said this much, much earlier, but ... I'm sorry."

Junpei is staring between them now, eyes wide. "Oh," Minami says. "Hey, don't worry about it--"

"No, listen. Hear me out first." Takeba draws in a breath and then breathes out, as though steeling herself. "I'm sorry for the stuff I said to you the first few days, for being so mean to you. I thought you were-- I thought there was a mist-- um. I thought you wouldn't be-- ugh! No, that's not an excuse." She breathes in again and hitches a smile to her face, small and awkward and tremulous. "I'm sorry. And ... um. Thank you. For saving me that night. I ... I don't know how to repay you."

"Hmm, I do happen to know a way for you to repay me," Minami says, and makes a show of thinking about it as both Junpei and Takeba lean forward in their seats. "For starters ... would it be okay if I called you Yuka-tan, too?"

Takeba's eyes widen as Junpei turns away, almost snorting and choking on laughter. Before Takeba can say anything else, Minami grins. "Just kidding! But also not really. May I call you Yukari?"

.

Joining the student council, health committee, and various school clubs seems mundane in the face of becoming part of an outfit that calls itself the _Specialised Extracurricular Execution Squad_.

"Execution? Execution of what?" she asks.

"Kakuja," Shuji Ikutsuki says, and Minami feels a chill descend over her skin.

.

Near the end of the month, another student transfers in.

He has dark hair and a faint slouch, gazing out at the class with a drowsy grey stare. An awkward silence stretches over the class before Ms. Toriumi prompts him to introduce himself -- and when he does, he seems to linger too long over the syllables, as though he doesn't really know himself.

"I'm Minato Yuki," he says. It sounds almost like a question.

.

**april (the violet mix).**

His first few days at Gekkoukan High are tolerable. The other students are inquisitive -- but on the most part, they leave him alone, preferring to direct their more intrusive curiosities to the other transfer student instead. Admittedly, she's a lot friendlier and far more approachable than he is, fielding their questions with easy smiles and cheerful responses that border on the nonsensical. Minami Arisato is a blessed diversion that deflects attention from him, and for that, Minato is grateful.

His directives from the CCG are clear enough. Blend in. Remember the mission, but stay inconspicuous. Notice everything, but react to nothing. Minato has no idea what he should be looking for; most of the assignment information is considered classified, locked behind layers upon layers of encryption and high-level clearance. Well, whatever; it's not like he cares that much, anyway. He's just here to do a job.

... a job that doesn't get any easier when Minami Arisato takes it upon herself to invest a deep and personal interest into his life.

The bell rings for lunch and all around him, the classroom breaks into a flurry of activity as students file out. Through the buzz of conversation, Minato hears many things -- Maeda, excitedly detailing how many fried yakisoba rolls he's going to buy and stuff into his mouth at once; Nagachika telling a pair of girls some nonsense, made-up facts about ghouls as they ooh, aah, and clutch at one another at appropriate intervals; Suzuki and her gaggle of friends poring over the newest issue of some fashion magazine. It's all too noisy; Minato wants nothing more than to escape the hubbub and noise around him. 

He slides as far back in his seat as he can go and drops his head onto the desk, cushioned by his folded arms. Seconds later, there's a voice near him, alarmingly close.

"Yen for your thoughts?"

Minato's head jerks upright -- and narrowly avoids crashing into Minami Arisato's chin. She's sandwiched herself between Takeba's chair and Minato's desk, leaning forward eagerly as she studies him with something akin to amusement in her eyes. She's holding out a copper ten yen coin, which she pops onto the back of Minato's hand. "C'mon," she says, lifting her purse and jangling it. "It's lunchtime! Aren't you going to eat? Or eat with anyone?"

Over her shoulder, Minato can see Iori and Takeba watching him. Takeba tugs half-heartedly at Arisato's arm. "C'mon, don't bother him," Takeba says; Iori almost cackles.

"Ah, give it a rest, Yuka-tan. The Mina-tan has scented blood and won't let go of her reluctant prey--yow!"

In a movement too quick to follow, Takeba grabs her exercise book off the top of her desk and hits Iori over the head with it. _Whap!_ The notebook glances off the side of Iori's cap, knocking it askew. "Ack! What was that for, Yuka--" is all he manages before she whacks him again -- this time over the shoulder. "Ow, geeze, hey, what gives? I just meant like, y'know, one of those cute retrievers! Doesn't Mina-tan remind you of one? Like, those Irish setters or something? Or those little fluffy ones with the big ears, all frilly-like?"

Not looking away from Minato, Arisato pushes out her bottom lip in a pout -- but her eyes are smiling, glinting with mischief. "Junpei! Are you calling me a dog?!"

"N-no, I mean--!"

"Ugh, please just stop talking, Stupei," Takeba says, and all but drags him out by the collar of his blazer. Several classmates stop to stare at the scene; there's even a wolf whistle or two. Arisato giggles, then turns serious.

"Well?"

Minato stares uncertainly back. "Well, what?"

"Aren't you going for lunch?"

He considers it. "No."

Arisato folds her arms. "Well, too bad, because I just invited you. I'd already told everyone else I've got plans for lunch, and I'm not a liar. C'mon! It'll be fun. My treat! And I mean, I'm kinda worried about you."

Minato feels a headache building, somewhere just above and behind his eyes. He checks the clock above the blackboard. Great, his window for a nap has just shortened by almost five minutes. "Why."

"Because it's been, like, a week, and you still haven't spoken to anyone?"

"So?" He affixes her with as dead-eyed a glare as he can manage, glowering at her from beneath the sweep of his fringe. Perhaps only being able to stare her down with one eye is an impediment -- for she blinks freely, only cocking her head slightly to the side. Damn. Maybe he should think about a haircut sometime.

"Look, being a transfer student is tough. I get it. It sucks, and it's lonely having to get used to new people and new places and new routines and new ways of doing things, without having to worry about making new friends. Believe me! I've transferred loads of times." She smiles at him, bright and sunny and guileless. "So, I'm gonna make it easy for you. I'll be your first friend!"

"Uh." Minato stares at her triumphant expression, then, more longingly, back at the clock. Unbidden, his supervisor's words flit across his mind. _Blend in. Remember the mission, but stay inconspicuous. Notice everything, but react to nothing._

Minato weighs his options; Arisato's smile is bright and expectant. An unstoppable force, meeting an unmovable object.

.

Arisato won't leave him alone.

She's there wherever he goes and wherever he looks. First, it starts with her dragging him for lunch. Minato's accustomed to playing the game of acting human and, under Arisato's watchful eye, dutifully buys melon bread or _conbini_ sandwiches and riceballs to eat, and coffee to drink. He listens to her make small talk, and volunteers whatever harmless white lies he can think of making up. 

It's just that he was sorely mistaken to ever assume that would be sufficient.

She shows up at the Paulownia Mall -- going to the karaoke lounge with a gaggle of friends; fielding customers at the accessories shop; serving coffee and dinner specials at the cafe. She's at the Iwatodai Station strip mall, chatting up the elderly bookseller couple or frequenting a number of restaurants in the area with a revolving array of schoolmates, at home and at ease no matter where she's at, or who she's with. There's something bright and vital and alive about her; though she's always so lively and chatty, it's always amongst other people that she truly bursts into bloom -- and they, in turn, come to gravitate towards her, like sunflower-heads facing the sky.

Tatsumi Port Island and Iwatodai aren't particularly large places; it'd be unreasonable to assume he wouldn't run into the same litany of faces. Yet, there's something oddly claustrophobic about being unable to avoid an extrovert high school girl with a too-cheery attitude and a joyfully dogged determination to intrude upon the small personal bubble he's built into his life. Had Minato not known better, his first assumption would be that he's being tailed -- be it by a ghoul marking its target, or else by CCG operatives surveilling him to ensure he doesn't lose sight of his objective. Yet, for all intents and purposes, Arisato seems to be an ordinary teenage girl with far too much time and energy on her hands.

Student council. A culture club. A sports club. Fashion club. There's no end to the fresh horrors Arisato seems hellbent on press-ganging him into. Had Minato also not known better, he'd have assumed this is some bizarre new form of psychological warfare being waged within the unlikely battleground of the innocuous halls of an everyday high school. 

Minato drags his feet through enrolling for all of the clubs and activities, supervised by Arisato's watchful eye as he fills out the signup sheets, nodding approvingly as he selects his options. Kendo is a safe option; he's already spent years training with a sword-type quinque, and the prospect of investing as little effort into extracurricular activities as possible is a deeply appealing one. Photography seems like another safe option; surely all he has to do is point a camera at something and press a few buttons, no big deal. Still, Arisato hovers over him with the vigilant air of an attentive mother hen -- or more accurately, an anxious sheepdog, nipping at his heels as she herds him towards her desired goal of, god forbid, gaining a social life -- as he submits the forms, then even rewards him with tiny bottles of yoghurt drinks when he's fulfilled her objectives to her satisfaction. It's more than a little frustrating. 

"I joined a bunch of clubs too," she says, rattling them off in a well-rehearsed list. "Student council and fashion club, of course, so we'll definitely see each other there, but also, hmm, cooking club, volleyball club, and the health committee. So you can't tell me I'm being unfair on you!"

"Hmm." Minato opens his shoe locker. Inspects the contents, even though nothing in it has changed since this morning. How sad. His life has surely changed in the scant hours since he'd woken up earlier today, blissfully unaware of the trials and tribulations he was due to face at Arisato's hands. He's joined four extracurricular clubs in less than four hours, for god's sake. He should just have rolled over and gone back to sleep when his alarm rang -- though he knows now that it would just be prolonging the inevitable. "Sure. Whatever. I don't care. Do whatever you want."

Most infuriatingly, Arisato wiggles a finger at him. "I hope you take being part of those clubs more seriously! After all, it's easier to meet people and make new friends that way. You'll know lots of other people in no time! And don't think I won't be checking up on your progress."

He swaps his shoes for the outdoor pair, and pushes the locker shut. It clangs with the finality of the entrance to a jail cell swinging closed. "What is this, kindergarten? The buddy system?"

Arisato folds her arms. "If you're gonna be that dumb about it, then, yeah. Yeah, that's exactly what this is. I'm not leaving you alone until you make some friends!"

Minato doesn't believe in any gods, but it is at that moment that he finds himself sending up a prayer. Maybe he'll drop by the Naganaki Shrine sometime.

.

At least he has some normal friends. Normal friends, who do not feel the need to watch over him as though they're worried of some deep and underlying psychological issue that prevents him from making friends and forming connections with other people. Normal friends that Arisato cheered over him making, yes, but normal friends nonetheless.

"Maybe she likes you," Kenji Tomochika says when Minato makes to dive under the ramen counter for the third time that afternoon.

"What? No. God, please, no." Once ascertaining the coast is clear, Minato settles back in his seat and picks up his chopsticks; outside Hagakure, the brown-haired girl passes by, chatting animatedly to a friend. Upon closer inspection, she looks like a college student. Minato breathes out a sigh of relief.

Tomochika stops mid-slurp -- burning his tongue in the process. "Wait," he says in between sputters, gulps of water, and fanning his mouth. "Wait, so you mean you're not interested in girls our age either? Like, do you have the hots for older women as well? Man, this is great, you have no idea what it's like meeting another fellow man of cultur--"

Minato sets his spoon and chopsticks back down. He's barely touched his food. He's usually good at performative acts of humanity, at wolfing down human food like it's the most delicious thing in the godforsaken world -- but today, the rich brown broth studded with scallions, sesame seeds, and bamboo shoots seems even more unappealing than usual. "Say another word, and I'm leaving."

"Aww, no, don't be like that!" Seemingly recovered, Tomochika resumes inhaling his ramen with renewed noise and gusto. Minato is grudgingly amazed -- and more than a little disgusted -- at how he can eat and talk at the same time, without having to surface for breath, or getting soup up his nose and down his windpipe. "But seriously, though, if you're after Ms. Kanou, then I'm gonna have to fight you."

"I am not," Minato says through his teeth, "interested in any of our teachers."

"Eh, sure, you do have hotties like Yukari Takeba and Minami Arisato in your class, but you don't know what you're missing out on, dude. Tell you what, lemme know your type, y'know, what you're into, and maybe I can hook you up with someone--"

'Normal' friends, his ass. Minato's starting to think that perhaps such people don't exist in Gekkoukan High, and he's doomed to spending the rest of his assignment beating back nutjobs with a stick. He gets to his feet and shoulders his bag. "Bye."

.

Once, Minato makes the mistake of assuming that his hobbies, at least, are sacred. That fervent wish doesn't hold true -- for Arisato is already at Bookworms and chatting up a storm with the shopkeeper couple as though she's known them all her life. She even rings up Minato's purchases for him when he goes to pick up the latest issue of a novel he'd been waiting for, and giggles about not giving him a discount just because they know each other -- because Bunkichi-san and Mitsuko-chan have to run a business, after all. The elderly couple regard her with the fond, foggy-eyed affection of indulgent grandparents; the wizened old man harrumphs and tucks a packet of melon bread into an open corner of Arisato's bag and shoos her away when she attempts to return it, while his wife laughs apologetically to Minato and muses on how lively their little shop has gotten recently.

How bewildering. But that, at least, allows him to make one conclusion: there's no way Arisato can be a ghoul or a CCG officer. After all, neither have demonstrated particularly strong capacities for altruism or empathy, for the delicate touch of human warmth.

He should know.

Minato leaves after that, whiling the rest of the afternoon away at the movies. He takes no great interest in today's showing, a slash flick with copious amounts of blood, screaming, and computer-generated bodies being sliced and hacked up; it's nothing he hasn't seen before under the cover of moonless nights, his quinque unfurling in his hand. In front of him, a group of girls yelp at every sudden movement and twanging scare chord. Minato decides to take his leave when a sudden swell of cello strings startles the girls, making the one closest to him jerk in her seat, the back of her head almost bashing against his knee. On a whim, he decides to detour to Paulownia Mall on the way back to his dorm.

He's paying for the newest expansion of Innocent Sin Online when Arisato spots him from across the store and waves enthusiastically, making her way over before he can complete the transaction. "Hey, stranger, long time no see!" she says and Minato groans, more at the cheesiness of her line than anything else. Her eyes brighten when she sees his purchase -- "oh! I've just started playing that, actually!"

"You don't say," is what comes out of Minato's mouth before he has a chance to stop himself. Arisato beams.

"Junpei gave it to me as a joke, but it's actually pretty fun! Even if I, um, don't know too much about it." She giggles, a little. "I'm kinda stuck at the moment because I can't seem to find the next quest objective. I keep getting warped back to where I started?"

"Where are you up to?" Minato makes the mistake of saying, and he's hit with an awful feeling of dread when Arisato clasps hold of his hand in both of hers.

... and that's how he ends up with a new party member in Innocent Sin Online, which had, right up until that fateful moment, been his retreat from Arisato's presence in his life. 

.

> **_> > Chatting in server '~*~OG MOFOS~*~'. Please keep discussions civil. Users found in violation of the ToS will be banned. <<_ **
> 
> _**> Tatsuya:** i regret everything._

> _**> hmk92:** i'm sorry! m(TT_TT)m i've never played MMOs before ><;;_

> _**> Maya:** wat noooo!!! zomg shaddap tatsuya no need 2 b mean. u were a n00b once, u kno. we all were, lolzzz_

> _**> Tatsuya:** i was just going to show her how to progress to the next objective ..._

> _**> Maya:** wat, and then leave her alone?? wat if jokers get her? then she'd have 2 start over. lalalala hey dont listen 2 him! teh game has so few players these days, its rly sad =/ we gotta welcome ne new players we get!!_

> _**> hmk92:** wahhh you're too kind m(8w8)m_

> _**> Maya:** if u ever need nething, big sis maya's got ur back!! ^^y_

> _**> hmk92:** okieeee thank youuu~! <3_

> _**> Maya:** oh ... hey u still need a proper sn rite?? the rng ones rly suck lel. hhhhhmmmm ... ><9;; i kno!!! u can be ginko! hehe_

> **_> > hmk92 has changed their screen name to Ginko. <<_ **

> _**> Ginko:** omgsh. yessss!!!! she's so cute, she was my favourite character!!! thank youuuuuu big sis maya!!!! n___n_

> _**> Maya:** chhhyyeyeaahahhhh u ttly get it!! awsum!!! \\(^o^)/\\(^v^)/ _

> _**> Tatsuya:** you two seem to be doing fine without me. i'll join a new party._

> _**> Maya:** oh no u don't!!! there's probs liek 10 players on teh entire jp server! >=O ur not goin newhere!! GETTIM, GINKO!!! SUPER! LET'S! POSITIVE! THINKING! BEEEEAAAAMMMM!!! (/ >u<)/ =====☆*;+_

> **_> Ginko: _ ** _ro~ger that! >:D_

> **_> > Tatsuya has left the server. <<_ **

> \----------

> **_> > Tatsuya has joined private server 'Silver River'. Please keep discussions civil. Users found in violation of the ToS will be banned. <<_ **

> _**> Trish:** What are you doing online? Have you completed your summary report for the week?_

> _**> Tatsuya:** god, not you too. i'm working on my composition homework and the report at the same time, my brain's fried and i just wanna waste some jokers, let me live._

> _**> Trish:** Noted. I did not realise high school life could be so taxing. Shall I ask our supervisor to scale back to fortnightly reports?_

> _**> Tatsuya:** you have no idea. and no, it's fine. _

> _**> Trish:** Understood. I shall refrain from distracting you further. Feel free to 'waste some jokers'. I will provide you with fire support and healing._

> _**> Tatsuya:** thanks. at least someone can pull their weight._

> _**> Trish:** I do not comprehend._

> _> **Tatsuya:** long story. or maybe a short one. do you remember me telling you about this weird girl?_

> _**> Trish:** The one that you say follows you everywhere?_

> _**> Tatsuya:** yeah. that's the one. she started playing ISO too._

> _**> Trish:** I see. This may be a cause for concern. Perhaps there is some grounds to your suspicions of her tailing you._

> _**> Tatsuya:** mm._

> _**> Trish:** As you requested before, I checked our internal personnel records. There is nothing on file for a female investigator under the name of Minami Arisato. However, that could be meaningless in itself. After all, you are operating under an alias as well. There is also the possibility that she could be a rival investigator from a different branch or division. You did say she transferred in recently, correct? If that is the case, she may be trying to scope you out and gauge your strength._

> _**> Tatsuya:** sht, missed that last joker. you surprised me._

> _**> Trish:** My apologies. I did not mean to distract you._

> _**> Tatsuya:** ... ok, i'll bite. me? gauge my strength? why?_

> _**> Trish:** Do you know what the other investigators are calling you?_

> _**> Tatsuya:** no._

> _**> Trish:** Death. The Reaper. Thanatos._

> _**> Tatsuya:** that's ... embarrassing._

> _**> Trish:** You have an impressive track record. Look around you. There are no other investigators of a similar age and rank to you._

> _**> Tatsuya:** yeah, yeah, that's enough out of YOU, rank 3 ghoul investigator palladion. like you're one to talk._

> _**> Trish:** Understood. I see you do not wish to discuss the matter further._

> _**> Tatsuya:** i don't._

> _**> Trish:** Very well._

> _**> Trish:** I just had a thought. We cannot rule out the possibility of Minami Arisato being a ghoul._

> _**> Tatsuya: **you think so?_

> _**> Trish:** There is a non-zero possibility. If we operate under that assumption, it might be best for you to take up all her offers of camaraderie and companionship, in order to observe her as closely as possible._

> _**> Tatsuya:** hah. easy for you to say._

> _**> Trish:** ... but if she is indeed a ghoul, you could be in danger. If that is the case, perhaps it is best that I petition our supervisor for clearance to surveil and observe you--_

> _**> Tatsuya:** no. thank you. geez. one stalker-- watcher is bad enough._

> _**> Trish:** Understood. If that is what you think is best. I shall respect your feelings on the matter._

> _**> Tatsuya:** thanks. oh, and ... remember that stuff i asked you to look into last time? how's that going?_

> _**> Trish:** Still no progress. I am still trying to access the database and records, but all information is buried behind layers of security and confidentiality protocols. It will take longer than I thought. I am sorry._

> _**> Tatsuya:** no, it's fine. thanks for trying, i appreciate it. still ... why that sort of security over ... a school?_

> _**> Trish:** I agree, it does seem unusual. Perhaps there are many important persons enrolled in your school. The granddaughter of the Kirijo Group is there; it is not unreasonable to assume there are other similarly high-ranking persons there as well._

> _**> Tatsuya:** true. anyway, i hope you don't mind investigating further. but if you find out anything -- don't send it through the usual channels. everything will be monitored. contact me first on this private server, and we'll proceed from there._

> _**> Trish:** Understood. Stay safe, Tatsuya. And make sure you complete your composition homework._

> _**> Tatsuya:** ha ha._

> **_> > Tatsuya is now offline. <<_ **

> **_> > Trish is now offline. <<_ **

.

**april (the v interlude).**

An elderly man steps out of the shade of a hotel awning, tucking a small blue key into the pocket of his overcoat. He's bent almost double with age -- but his eyes are bright, virulent and vivid and red. Idling by the kerb is a car; the driver's door opens and a man steps out, opening the rear passenger-side door. A woman in a dark dress interrupted with blue panels helps the older man into the car, her arm steady as she takes his weight.

"The CCG and the Kirijo Group's pieces are in motion," the old man says, settling into the velvety upholstery. His fingers, steepled over his lap, tap idly at the back of gloved knuckles. "It would be prudent to watch over their movements."

"Yes, master," his two attendants say, bowing in unison. The woman shuts the car door; the man gets back into the driver's seat, flicking on the dimmed headlights.

In the darkness, the car is almost black -- but under the light of the moon, its bodywork glints a deep and dark metallic blue. Its engine purrs quietly as it pulls away from the building, almost silent in the night.


	2. May

**may (the problem sleuth mix).**

Minato's investigation brings him to Tatsumi Memorial Hospital -- there's been a small spate of strange illnesses afflicting seemingly unrelated individuals over the past few weeks. News about them barely makes a blip in the media networks; only the CCG is privy to the truth -- that it's a series of ghoul attacks, occurring with neither rhyme nor reason. Most unusually, though, the would-be victims are left alive.

He drops in on the victims as a matter of custom and protocol, more curious than anything about ghouls that don't get seized by bloodlust to the point of devouring their prey. He's heard of ghouls like that, binge-eaters who kill only for the fun of it -- but invariably, they treat their prey like sport. More often than not, the bodies of binge-eaters' victims leave the encounter as little more than savaged messes, dismal remains zippered away into body bags to hide the extents of the injuries they've sustained. Minato has seen victims from every possible corner of the spectrum of binge-eaters and their eating habits or compulsions. He's seen bodies almost whole and intact, save for a missing portion here or there, often with no rhyme or reason; corpses with only certain parts eaten off -- hallmarks of ghouls with fixations on certain body parts, be they fingers, feet, or tongues; bodies battered and marked with multitudes of injuries, reminiscent of documentaries he watched as a child, of animals toying with their prey; dismembered heads and limbs and torsos from many different owners in a macabre jumble, found scattered through back alleys like a perverse parody of a children's fairytale breadcrumb trail. He even remembers once, most chillingly, bodies artfully styled and presented, like showpieces in a gallery -- skin carefully excised from the back and twisted, stretched, sewn into wings, a facsimile of a ghoul's ukaku; decapitated figures clutching their own heads, eyelids sagging over empty sockets, staring eyeballs slid between jaw and tongue stiffened by _rigor mortis_ ; corpses bent double in supplication, spines carved out of place and arising, curving out of the parted flesh of hollowed-out backs, effigies meant as a statement on government policy and society.

All of them, bearing the same telltale sign of a ghoul that kills for sport, as opposed to purely for the sake of survival.

Yet, this profile of a binge-eater doesn't fit the newest victims, all fortunate to have left the scene with their lives -- and, indeed, they don't seem too worse for wear after their encounter with a ghoul, walking away with a little lethargy and nothing more.

Once in the wards, he surreptitiously shows his credentials and studies patient reports. Without fail, each victim only bears superficial, non-fatal wounds; they are sluggish and tired when he interviews them, but responsive nonetheless. Nobody has anything useful to say, no clear image to paint of their attacker or any further information that could help in his investigation. In the end, Minato snaps his notebook shut, thanks the victims for their time, and gets up to take his leave.

Through the door, he hears a familiar voice. Minato turns around to watch a small procession of Gekkoukan High students passing through the hallway -- Arisato, Iori, and Takeba from his class, along with an upperclassman he's glimpsed around the school before. He presses himself back against the door as they go, but none of them turn towards his direction as they pass.

.

Golden Week begins in the middle of the week that year.

In the days leading up to the holiday, all Minato's classmates can talk about are their plans -- travel with the family, outings with friends, catching up on films or TV shows or marathon gaming sessions. 

"Got any plans?" Tomochika asks as they pack up at the end of the day. "Emiri and I were gonna go and watch some movies or something. Or, hey, yknow ..." He lowers his voice, beckoning Minato to move closer. Minato tips forward on the front legs of his chair. "We could make a double date of it or something, what d'you think of Ms. Toriumi or Ms. Ounishi--"

"Not interested." Minato lets his chair legs drop back to the floor with a thud. "I've got plans."

"Really?" a new voice pipes up. Minato opens his eyes to find Arisato leaning by his desk, chin propped onto her interlaced fingers.

"Innocent Sin Online," Minato says and yawns into his hand. "Hardcore gaming session."

"Aw, what the hell, that's so uncool," Tomochika says. "Nerd."

"Hey shaddap, it's a great game, you should try it sometime," Iori says from the next desk over. "It's an oldie, but a goodie. My bro here's got good taste."

_Bro_ , Minato thinks, bemused. He doesn't recall ever talking to Iori much before. Before anybody can say anything else, Iori yelps. Arisato removes her elbow from where she's dug it into Iori's ribs. "O-of course, Mina-tan's got great taste as well," he says, smacking Arisato's elbow away before she can jab him again.

"Anyway! That's not the point," Arisato says, primly smoothing down her neck ribbon. "You should go out more, Minato-kun!" Though she doesn't quite wag a finger at him, Minato gets the feeling that she's doing it anyway. "Golden Week is no time to spend cooped up indoors!"

Minato places the last of his books into his bag. "Whatever," he says, and leaves.

.

On the first day of Golden Week, Minato fires up Innocent Sin Online. There, the usual messages from Trish are awaiting him -- encoded reports on CCG happenings and whatever she's managed to uncover from her personal investigations, interspersed with the odd occasion of actually playing the game. Yet, something about the in-game enemies, the entities known as the jokers -- the effect they have on their victims, rendering them stunned and immobile and insensate before making them lose their minds -- leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Several hours into his so-called 'marathon gaming session', Minato finally mutes his computer speakers and headset. The discordant laughter of the jokers spawned at the intersections of Konan District sounds like an omen, a warning of things to come.

The next day, he books transport to the Dark Hour -- the CCG's ghoul internment and research facility several hours' drive from the city.

The administration building squats low on the land, a nondescript block that looks like it could be anything -- just an ordinary low-rise office or factory building, nothing remarkable. Once inside and through the first set of security gates, Minato makes his way through the twisting hallways and labyrinthine corridors, down elevators reaching into the innards of a building set deep into the earth. Only once he is inside the first of the subterranean levels does the true nature of the Dark Hour reveal itself -- sharp, modern architecture in abstract and arcane shapes; guards and researchers and investigators and other staff members who nod at Minato as they pass, the facility still a hubbub of activity despite the national holiday. Minato doesn't make for the further security gates and elevators that lead to Tartarus and the Monad Depths, where the most highly-ranked kakuja are detained; he detours, instead, to the medical facilities and research and development labs at the upper levels.

There, the walls, floors, and ceiling are a stark and sterile white, illuminated with bright fluorescent lights. The waiting room is almost empty, save for two people. One of them is a older man, reading through today's newspapers, the briefcase for his quinque propped upright on the chair next to him. Across him is a blonde girl sitting ramrod-straight in her seat, reading a magazine. She holds it so still that she could almost be mistaken for a statue -- save for the slight fluttering of the ends of the pages from the breeze of a nearby air-conditioning vent.

"Greetings," she says without looking up. She flips a page, and presses it down into place.

Minato sits down beside her. "Hey, Aigis."

Still intent on her article -- a feature special on racecars -- she nods once, seriously. The ends of her hair brush against her jaw. "Thank you for coming out of the way to accompany me for my checkup despite your own not being scheduled," she says, then shuts her magazine, the glossy pages snapping together. She hands the magazine to Minato and he takes it, tucking it under his arm, careful not to fold or bend it. The examination room door opens and a name is called; the other man waiting in the room folds up his newspapers and picks up his quinque case, the door clicking shut behind him when he goes.

"Bit of a pain getting here today," Minato says. "I guess most of the drivers are on break, too."

"Indeed. It is unfortunate that we cannot rely on public transportation to access the Dark Hour." Aigis' tone is clipped, matter-of-fact.

Minato leans back slightly in his seat. "Y'know, I've always wondered. Why is it called the Dark Hour?"

Aigis folds her hands over her lap. Overhead and around them, the air conditioning hums through the ceiling and the vents. "Because it's not meant to exist."

Before Minato can say anything else, the examination room door opens again and this time, Aigis' name is called. She stands, smoothing down the front of her powder-blue dress. Unlike the other occupant of the waiting room, she's empty-handed, and doesn't carry a briefcase for a quinque.

.

**may (the C-C-C-COMBO BREAKER! interlude).**

It's almost eight in the evening when Junpei eases his hands off the arcade fight sticks, wincing at the tension along his fingers and knuckles. On-screen, the leopard-headed CPU character strikes a victory pose, while Junpei's own buxom maiden swoons daintily in her defeat. Man, what a shit day, and what a shit streak he's been having. Perhaps it's time to call it quits.

He's loitering outside the arcade and contemplating a final game when a cream and orange blur rushes past him, trailing the scent of citrus and coffee. Junpei catches a glimpse of auburn hair and a pretty face screwed up in concentration as the girl checks her watch and power-walks even faster, already almost rounding the corner.

"Yo, Mina-tan, where's the fire?"

Minami stumbles a little, almost stepping on her own foot. "Junpei? What're you doing here?"

His grin is sheepish. "Eh, just chillin' at the arcade. Had a bad streak and lost a few matches, wasn't sure if I should head back for a last round before they close. What're you doin' here?"

"I just finished work. Chagall Cafe tonight, it was pretty hectic."

"Oh." Junpei considers the status of his wallet -- empty -- and wonders if he should take a leaf out of Minami's book. But then that'd leave him with no time to chill out at the arcade after school, which would also totally defeat the purpose of going to earn some cash. "Well, uh. Nice one. Wanna head home together?"

"I was going to head back with Yukari, but sure--"

"Huh, what's Yuka-tan doing here too?" Junpei props himself against the wall, and gives himself a good stretch. His arms, shoulders, and back are cramped from the time spent hunched over the arcade box. "But cool, we can all go together, I guess. The more, the merrier, ya know?"

Yukari's draws close to them before he's finished talking, phone tucked in her hand. To Minami, she says "I was just about to call you", and to Junpei, she adds, "what're you doing here?"

"Hey, I asked first," Junpei says. "You on a date or something?"

"No," Yukari says. "I was studying with a friend!"

Junpei groans. "Dude, semester only just started. Mitsuru-senpai rubbing off on you or somethin'?"

" _No_ ," Yukari says again. Something flashes in her eyes -- and Junpei mentally backpedals. "And what about you? What're you doing here at this hour?"

"... uh, chillin' out at the arcade." He glances between Minami and Yukari. "Okay, god, fine, point taken, you two are being stupendiculousliferous members of society, no need to say anything, geez."

"... stupendiculousliferous," Yukari repeats under her breath, and shuts her eyes. "Ms. Toriumi would be crying if she heard that."

"What, why? I'm demonstrating stupendiculousliferous compositional skills, aren't I? I compositioned a whole new word, Ms. T should be thrilled. 'sides, that's not the point. The point is, ain't it a good thing I'm here with you two?"

Yukari raises her eyebrows. "Oh? And why's that?"

Junpei spreads out his arms in a broad and sweeping gesture. "I'll be the gentleman knight that escorts you fair maidens back home, duh. Though maybe only one maiden, in this case." A pause; he waggles his fingers. "And it's Mina-tan. The other one is the--"

"Are you gonna finish that thought?"

He takes a look at Yukari's expression, then decides against it. "Uh," he says, trying to buy himself time.

Yukari punches him in the arm. "You were thinking something rude or unflattering, right?"

"Ow! Hey, cut it out, see what I mean?! You gotta be more like Mina-tan, man, no fair maiden just goes up and starts whacking people like that! Right, Mina-tan?!" He tries to catch her eye, and she giggles behind a hand. "Augh. Save meeee!"

"Oh, that is it! You're in for it now, buster!" Yukari says, but she, too, is grinning. Ah, well. Making both of them laugh isn't too bad, Junpei thinks, even as they squabble all the way to the train station.

They have to cut their bickering short once alighting on the train. It's quiet, reasonably crowded with commuters -- either heading home after the shops have closed, or on to the next destination for a night of revelry -- with little seating space. Yukari rolls her eyes when Junpei makes a great show of offering her his seat with a little bow and flourish, but takes it anyway. Overhead, the lights of the carriage flicker.

The lights shut down in earnest once they've crossed the bridge onto the mainland -- and then the train shudders and groans and jerks, screeching to an uneven and stuttering halt. In the darkness, passengers start to murmur -- "what's happening?" "Is it a power outage?" "Our taxpayer money's going to great use" -- and phone screens light up along the length of the carriage, illuminating the faces of their owners peering around them and out of the windows.

Somewhere in the dark, the sound of breaking glass. Junpei turns his head so quickly that a muscle in his neck and shoulder spasms. Something long and narrow punches through the broken window -- and pierces right through a nearby passenger. 

The young man collapses without a sound, phone sliding out of his slackened grip. Somebody starts to scream. Junpei plunges his hand into his bag, feeling for the contours of his mask. He's running before Yukari and Minami can react, leaping past other commuters and sidestepping stanchions as he goes; around him, more windows shatter in his wake, the assailant's appendages lancing into the floor and ceiling.

"Dammit, Junpei, _wait_!" Yukari is yelling after him. Junpei ignores her, barelling into the next carriage up.

.

**may (the pillar of wisdom mix).**

Minato picks the last carriage of the train, all the way at the end of platform. There are fewer people there; the only other occupants are dotted at sparse intervals along the seats -- Minato can easily grab a place without having to seat himself next to anyone.

He picks one closest to the door, with a plexiglass panel between the stanchion and wall. Slips his earphones in place, flicks his way through to a playlist on his MP3; inexplicably, he's feeling like something jazzy tonight.

The doors of the train shut with a pneumatic hiss. He props his head against the corner created by the wall and the plexiglass panel, and settles down for a nap. Lulled by the rhythmic shifting of the moving train, he sleeps.

He dreams of the first time he'd gone to the Dark Hour, following his supervisor through a brief tour of the facilities. They don't spend long on each level; their goal for the day is the medical and research labs where kakuhou are extracted to create quinque. The lights of the hallways is a harsh off-white with a sallow cast of green, casting everyone in the same pallid, sickly glow. 

The ghouls held in Thebel are quiet and subdued and overwhelmingly _human_. There, they share cells and run under relaxed schedules, with opportunity for activities and recreation. Some of them read; others play video games, old titles Minato remembers from his childhood; a few watch an afternoon talk show, while others still exercise either individually or in groups. Had he not known any better, he'd have been unable to distinguish them from humans; had he not known any better, he'd have thought these could be any of the people he passes by over the course of his day. They don't rage against one another, or their captors; in another setting, against another backdrop, they could just be ordinary people going through a normal day in their lives.

"They look just like other people," Minato murmurs. Once or twice, he sees smaller, younger faces amongst them -- a teenage girl with long hair that tumbles past her shoulders; a boy with bright scarlet eyes, too young, it seems, to properly quell his kakugan. Both watch Minato, impassive, as he passes.

His supervisor, a hazy and indistinct figure pacing far in front of him, folds his hands behind his back. "That's how they entrap people," he says. "Like predators, camouflaging themselves to their prey. You'd never suspect the barista at the cafe you frequent, or the kindly neighbour that feeds the cats. Thebel is for the ones that pose the least threat, the ones that are only here because of their lot in life."

"I think it's sad." Minato pauses as they enter an elevator to ascend back to the research and administration levels. "They didn't ask to be born this way. To have to consume people to survive."

A sharp glance towards him. "Perhaps you will revise that decision once you've seen the lower levels. Tziah, Harabah, Adamah. Murderers and terrorists and the like, who reveled in their depravity until they were caught."

Minato has nothing to say to that, so he just bows his head and stays that way until the elevator doors close. Though he's only goes as far down as the Thebel block, he's seen enough; this trip is more than just to bring him to test his compatibility with different quinque types; it's also a warning, if he dares to slip up.

He is fourteen years old at the time.

At the research facilities, he tests various quinque -- spears and katars and gauntlets, shortbows and zweihanders, axes and rapiers. In the end, he settles for a quinque that takes the form of a one-handed, straight-bladed, single-edged sword, the crossguard curved like the arch of a crescent moon, basket-hilt curling around his hand like dark feathers.

"Interesting," one of the facility staff comments as the requisite equipment checkout and assignment forms are filled out. The identity and access cards on his lanyard read _Ikutsuki_. "Don't see many with an affinity for quinque created from Nyx. Then and again, we didn't get to make many quinque from them before they escaped. What a shame, eh?"

"Nyx?" Minato asks. He's never heard that name before.

"Nyx. The Appraiser. The Night Queen," Ikutsuki says. "The One-Eyed King."

Minato's dream jerks and shudders; the image before his eyes trembles, then fades.

The carriage is dark when Minato wakes up. One of his earphones has slipped loose; the fading notes of a finishing track are still playing through the other. The train around him is silent, empty; distantly, he can hear the sound of pounding feet and raised voices.

A power outage or service disruption, perhaps. Minato fervently hopes it's just that, and not a body strewn across the tracks.

He readjusts his position, resting his head back against the cool sheet of the window as he stretches out his neck; he's about to turn on another playlist and resume his nap when the entire train shakes and judders, the groan of machinery accompanied by the shriek of metal against metal and the clamour of voices raised in panic.

So much for his snooze. Minato gets to his feet, hefting up the bag with his quinque -- just in case. He makes his way to the front of the train, keeping a brisk and steady pace to his music as he steps past the thronging mob streaming in the opposite direction. Some of them beat against doors that will not open, locked shut by deadened mechanisms without power to feed them; a few throw themselves against the windows, trying to break through weak points already punched in the glass. The further up the carriages he gets, the more signs there are of the attack on the train -- thin slits punched through the side, roof, and floors of each compartment; glass sprinkled on the floor; luggage racks and stanchion poles cut to scrap metal. Here and there, broken, severed segments of a ghoul's kagune squirm and wriggle underfoot, making to grab for his legs as he passes. Minato quickens his pace, the thin, bannerlike appendages twitching in his wake -- though he's never fought her before, he recognises the Priestess' ribbonlike kagune, black and white and striped with purple. Heart in his mouth, he sends out a call for support.

On and on he goes, breaking into a run. His foot slides on something and he skids, grabbing hold of a ceiling strap to right himself. Through the light of the moon shining through the ruined roof of the train carriage, he can see the floors are slick with blood. There are a few bodies scattered along the length of the carriage; when he kneels down beside them and feels for signs of life, Minato is relieved to feel the fluttering rhythm of a pulse at his fingertips, or hear the wheeze of breathing in his ears. With the dregs of his phone's remaining battery, he punches in another support request and carries on.

The front of the train is deserted. Glass from the shattered windows crunches underfoot as Minato draws his quinque, the tendrils whipsawing together to form the straight edge of a sword blade, guard unfurling like a dark wing around his hand. Up ahead, the entrance to the train cab has been broken into -- and through the windshield, Minato can see three ghouls facing down Priestess. Two of them -- smaller, female presumably -- weave between Priestess' long, whiplashing kagune, attempting to divert her attention; the third, taller, more solid in build, tries to bridge the gap between them. He hesitates when Priestess turns to him, fingers resting on her bottom lip. For a kakuja, she looks remarkably normal -- still human in shape, save for the black and white armour covering her body, cleanly bisecting her in half. Inexplicably, she's managed to procure some dark lipstick; it smears obscenely as she licks her fingers. The ghoul facing her makes a little squawking noise.

"Don't just stand there and gawk, do something!" one of the female ghouls yells, her voice taut and strained, leaping to the side to dodge a hit. She staggers a little, knee almost buckling from her landing. She looks tired, her movements heavy and awkward. "Use your head! The big one!"

"Sh-shaddap!" the male ghoul shouts back, half-turning away from Priestess, pointing towards the kakuja with a curved, uncertain finger. "She's not wearing--"

"Look," the third ghoul pants, skipping back to avoid a blow that would've sliced her ankles off. She has long coppery hair that streams into the night, clashing against the crimson blaze of her kagune. "Or, er, don't look, actually, that might be a better idea. Don't think of it as her being topless! You know that's all armour--"

"Yeah, but, like, that's a chick, and I can't hit a girl, man--"

As if in response, Priestess lashes out with several more strips of her kagune, grabbing hold of him by his arms and legs. His yelp of surprise turns into a cry of pain as the sharp edges cut through the fabric of his clothes and into his skin. "Ow, ow, ow ow ow, what the shit!"

"Oh, my god. You. Are. Such. A. Guy," the first ghoul says. Something about the exasperated edge to her voice is familiar, even muffled through her mask. Hers is an unknown one that Minato hasn't seen before, something horned and vaguely Egyptian. She fires a salvo of razor-thin sickle-blades from her ukaku, cutting him free. The male ghoul with the birdlike mask falls with a thud and a crunch onto the rocky embankment of the tracks, remarkably graceless.

As though bored, Priestess glances away from her clustered opponents -- and gazes right into the train cab. Even from the distance, Minato can see the bright red blaze of her kakugan and the fishhook curve of her smile, a dark lipstick slash.

She throws out a tangle of her kagune -- and the three ghouls hurl themselves aside to avoid her blow. Minato ducks as a tendril bursts through the glass of the windshield and anchors itself around the control console -- and then there's a groan of protesting metal as slowly, ponderously, the train begins to lurch forward.

Behind him, Minato can hear the other passengers of the train, fear and confusion thronging in their voices. The train's wheels groan and outside, showers of sparks flare in the night as the kakuja gives a mighty heave, attempting to pull the locomotive into motion.

Up ahead, the shapes of inactive trains loom into focus. Priestess is laughing now, her voice reaching a frenzied pitch. "Oh, god!" Horned Egyptian cries as the train inches closer, picking up speed slowly. "It's ... it's trying to crash the trains! W-what are we going to do?"

"I-I don't know," Bird Head yells. "I'm thinking!"

"Think _faster_!"

"We need to try and stop her! All those people--"

"Thanks, Ace Detective, I had no idea! And, yeah, like the three of us can take a kakuja, _great plan_ \--"

Only the ghoul with the golden-orange hair is still and silent as she stares directly at Minato, her gaze piercing in the dim light. In the train, Minato grips his quinque in both hands, breathes out, and swings the blade through the tangle of kagune latched and choked in an angry, writhing snare around the cab.

The loss of tension unbalances Priestess and she skids and teeters, falling through the air. Minato drives the pommel of his quinque through the windshield, dislodging the last of the glass as he vaults out of the cab. Three heads snap towards him, but Minato doesn't care for that. He draws in a breath, focuses on the placement of his feet -- first step from the floor to the console, second step through the broken jags of the windshield and onto the nose of the cab, third step on the flat plane of the train tracks -- and the tension in his arms, in the supposed trajectory of his leap and the approximate arc of the swing of his sword. The ghoul with the golden-orange hair watches him, dropping into the beginnings of a crouch as she readies herself to spring.

"Now!" she shouts and leaps forward; the others follow her lead, all aiming for Priestess' head.

Minato's quinque scrapes and grinds against her armour, and for a heart-stopping moment, he's afraid. Priestess' grin widens and she bares her teeth, surprisingly white and even. Her breath reeks of blood. " _Not enough,_ " she says, her voice barely more than a whisper. " _Not strong enough, only the Appraiser can touch me--_ "

A sharp crack, a splintering as something gives way under the quinque blade. Minato adjusts his grip and holds the sword two-handed, twisting in further; in his hands, the quinque seems to pulse and tremble, almost like a living thing.

The kakuja's mouth opens in a soundless scream; the ends of her kagune twitch uselessly in the air, unable to regenerate fast enough. Minato straightens in time to see her head sailing through the air in a dissonantly serene arc, Priestess' eyes wide and staring behind the scalloped pink edge of her mask. Her mouth is still open, lips parted in a question, an expression of surprise.

The head lands somewhere far along the tracks. Bird Head looks down at the headless body under the broad, heavy shadow of his koukaku, and runs to the side of the embankment to vomit explosively. Horned Egyptian is breathing hard, shoulders rising and falling erratically as she hyperventilates, drawing in deep choking gulps of air as she doubles over with her fists on her knees, trying not to follow Bird Head's example. 

How curious. Minato tucks away the oddity of these reactions for future reference. 

He shifts his weight; a joint in his ankle pops, and the crushed stone of the railway embankment under his shoes rattle together. Horned Egyptian and Orange-hair tense; Orange-hair rests her hand on the curve of Horned Egyptian's shoulder, and looks up to meet Minato's gaze. Behind her mask, one eye glints a bright red -- unlike the other two, with their two crimson kakugan. This close, he can see the trio of ghouls are young, still built along the lanky and uncertain lines of teenagers. He would go so far as to hazard that they're almost the same age as him.

"That sword. That quinque," Orange-hair says and hesitates. "It could cut through a kakuja's armour. Just … who exactly are you?"

"Just a public servant, or whatever." Minato jerks his wrist, flicking off the worst of the mess on the quinque blade. "I was on my way home too."

"You're a dove," Orange-hair says, remarkably steady over the sounds of Bird Head retching in the background and Horned Egyptian still gasping like a landed fish that ran a marathon on the verge of tears. Minato can't read the emotion in her voice. Not a question, just a matter-of-fact statement. "Why ... why did you help us? Since when does the CCG work together with ghouls?"

Instead of answering, Minato sheathes his quinque and stows it back in its makeshift carrier alongside his practise shinai. "I dunno," he says and shoulders the bag. "Just felt like it, I guess."

Perhaps it's brazen of him, to turn his back on a trio of ghouls that have just had a hand in felling one of the infamous kakuja housed in the Monad Depths of the Dark Hour. Still, there's a part of him that trusts Orange-hair not to attack him, and to hold her companions back from the same.

He makes it back on board the train unaccosted. In the distance, he can hear the sound of sirens and the roar of engines, all converging around Iwatodai Station.

.

**may (the hey! turn it up! mix).**

Minami's head is pounding, her thoughts reeling as she herds Junpei and Yukari back onto the train. With the police and CCG arriving on the scene, being caught slipping away feels like a gamble, a gamble that she doesn't feel like risking.

The streets are empty by the time they're released from questioning by the police -- just standard procedure, they're assured, in trying to compile eyewitness accounts from the passengers on the train. Both Junpei and Yukari are quiet the entire way back; the former turns away from her and shrugs off her hand when she reaches for him, and the latter moves closer to Minami until they're walking shoulder to shoulder. After some hesitation, Yukari tucks her hand into the crook of Minami's elbow and they walk like that all the way from the station back to the dorm.

It's only when Junpei's stomach churns out a gurgling complaint, and when Yukari sags against Minami's arm even more, that she shepherds them towards a convenience store, firmly depositing the duo along the counter at the window. Yukari shakes her head when Minami attempts to leave her, and Junpei only gazes moodily out into the night, toying with the cuffs of his jacket. Hand-in-hand with Yukari, Minami manoeuvres her way through ordering and paying for coffees -- strong and black, no extras -- and makes her way back to the counter. There, she cajoles Junpei and Yukari into finishing the drinks, until some of the colour returns to their cheeks. Yukari gives her hand a grateful squeeze, and Minami tries to smile back.

The others are waiting for them when they arrive at the dorm -- Mitsuru, Akihiko, and Ikutsuki are clustered around the TV in the lounge, following the news reports. Minami sends Junpei and Yukari upstairs and sits to weather her second interrogation of the night, fielding more questions. 

She doesn't sleep well that night. Instead, she dreams of wandering down a hall of mirrors paved with white and black tiles. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see her reflection following her, a figure wearing a bone-white mask with deep, dark eyeholes and a black crescent-moon slash of a smile. A child in striped pyjamas perches on her dresser duplicated at every turn and every corner, watching her. His eyes are a bright and brilliant red, almost luminous in the dark. She wakes up as she approaches one of her reflections in the mirror, one hand resting on the edge of the white mask.

.

Minami studies the empty seat in front of her on Monday.

Yukari glances back towards her -- and the empty seat -- and exchanges an uneasy look with Junpei. They both broach the topic with her over the weekend, completely independent of one another. For once, both are in agreement -- with Minato's revelation as a dove, both attempt, in their own way, to convince her to keep her distance.

... which would be even more suspicious.

She props her cheek on her knuckles and stares out of the window, at the last of the cherry blossoms clinging stubbornly to their branches. At first, she doesn't hear the classroom door open -- until the seat in front of her scrapes as it's pushed back against the floor.

"Nice of you to join us today," Ms. Toriumi says, her voice dry. "See me after class, please."

Minato mumbles an assent and apology under his breath, and sets down his bag, face downturned. Moments later, he lays out his books across his desk and lays his head out on them. Unbelievably, his breaths turn deep and even.

Minami leans forward, pencil in hand, and pokes him hard between the shoulders. She has a cheerful wink and a little wave ready for him; he regards her through dark, tired eyes and slumps back down on his desk, head flat against the surface. 

.

"I'm tellin' ya, Mina-tan, this dude's bad business," Junpei hisses under his breath.

Minami shushes him. "Quiet, the movie's starting!"

"Dude." Junpei gestures at the screen. "It's the preview trailers."

"Still part of the movies," Minami says.

"Listen, Mina-tan ... naw, Minami, I'm gonna call you that, 'cuz shit's serious, yo, I need you to listen to me. I know you're, like, BFFs with the dude, but he's a dove, man, some CCG mole sent to keep an eye on us or flush us out or somethin'. I know you're not, like, a normal ghoul or whatever, with that funky one-eyed deal and all, so maybe you don't know what they're like, but I do. I've grown up with the shadow of 'em hanging over my head all my life, and that's not shit you want on your--" He breaks off abruptly as a couple approaches and tries to squeeze past his knees, waiting until they're well out of earshot and the walls of the theatre are all but rattling from the bass of the movie trailer. "Not shit you want causin' trouble--"

On-screen, the trailer displays some cars and buildings exploding. The floor almost vibrates underfoot from the boom of the bass and Junpei throws up his hands and seems to give up on his lecture. 

.

"Yeah, for once, I agree with Junpei." Yukari kneads her knuckles into her forehead; she both looks and sounds pained. "I know you guys really hit it off, but I think you should keep your distance from Minato-kun." She shudders, zipping her cardigan up a little higher. "I mean ... why was he there, on the same train as us? D'you think he was ... tailing us or something?"

"Damn dove probably just wanted to steal our thunder and kill us when we were all tired out or something," Junpei mutters under his breath. "Get himself some cushy promotions or whatever ..."

Yukari gives him a look. "You're just pissy that he helped us."

"Uh, yeah?! Dude, had the CCG not come swaggerin' in, we'd have been the heroes. Like, imagine that, y'know? We'd have made the news!"

"The news," Yukari repeats through grit teeth. "Yeah, I can see the headlines now. 'Passenger train Anehazuru attacked by ghouls in terrorism attempt'. That's going to go over sooo well."

Junpei makes an impatient noise. "No, Yuka-tan, I mean, like, how good would we have looked? A bunch of ghouls fighting off another creepy monster ghoul and saving the entire train full of passengers? Maybe then we wouldn't have to live like this and be shit on and hunted by the doves. Instead, one of them just hadta come swinging in at the last moment and steal all the credit, what the hell, man."

"What, you mean you'd rather he attacked us instead? Picked us off while we were already exhausted?"

"No, dammit, I mean it'd have been our chance to prove to people that ghouls aren't, like, all just these horrible man-eating monsters! We coulda been heroes, man--"

"Oh, so now you think we'd have been hailed as, what, some great saviours of justice or something?"

"Shit, yeah, it'd have been a start! You got a problem with that, or somethin'?!"

They glare at each other over Minami's head. She prods morosely at her revision notes, spread out across the lounge table. "C'mon, guys, this was just meant to be a study session. Y'know, like ... yay, polynomials! Factoring differentials! Oh god, I love organic chemistry!" she says. In the background, the news plays yet another report on something called Apathy Syndrome. It sounds like a warning, crisped and tinny through the TV speakers.

.

Contrary to what Junpei, Yukari, and Mitsuru think, Minami does try to give Minato a wide berth. Cross her heart and hope to die, stick a needle in her eye. Ikutsuki, on the other hand, agrees with her in that she should probably try to act normal.

It's just a little bit difficult after she's gone and integrated herself into so many little part of Minato's life. She can't just drop out of student council, or fashion club, or stop playing Innocent Sin Online -- if anything, Ikutsuki had argued, that'd be even more grounds for suspicion.

The end of the month arrives, finding Minami rostered on for a large number of shifts at Chagall. On her first day of consecutive shifts, she nearly runs into Minato behind the counter, steaming milk for a coffee. Minami almost drops the plate of sandwiches she's holding.

"What're you doing here?" she blurts out. 

He looks down at himself, as though only just realising he's wearing a Chagall apron and uniform as well. "Working," he says, and dumps milk and foam into a waiting mug. Minami purses her lips.

Surely CCG investigators aren't paid such a pittance that they need to take part-time jobs? Being paid peanuts, in addition to having a dangerous career -- were she not on the other side, she'd have thought it far more depressing. She studies Minato from under lowered lashes, picking up the completed coffee orders and arranging them on her tray to take out. It's not as if she can say anything; after all, prior to the night of the battle against the kakuja, she hadn't known he was an investigator, either. 

Minato raises his brows when he finds her still in place, gazing intently at him; he fidgets a little, busying himself with wiping his hands. "It's going to table five," he says, holding up the slip of paper tucked under the milk frother. Even as Minami runs the orders out and chats with the customers, she thinks she can feel his eyes on her, boring into the back of her head. Yet, when she looks up, his head is tucked down, eyes studiously fixed on the next round of coffees he's making.

He does, at the very least, make a mean cup of coffee.

Far better than the other baristas, in fact.

.

**may (the arabica grande mix).**

At the end of a week of shifts together, Arisato corners him in the back office of the cafe as he's folding up his apron, placing herself between him and the door.

"I know what you are and why you're here," she says without preamble.

Minato stares her down as his thoughts run wild -- what does she think? What does she suspect? His identity as a CCG investigator isn't widely known outside the organisation; all the personal records that were submitted to Gekkoukan High for his enrollment are carefully doctored, a false identity manufactured for his cover. What else, then?

"You keep to yourself, you barely eat, you're drowsy during the day, and you make some really, really good coffee." Arisato advances on him and Minato holds his ground, turning his head slightly to keep her well within his line of sight. "I know what you are."

His heart pounds, painfully hard and painfully loud in his head. No, it can't be. She can't know the true secret of his identity, even more sensitive and classified than his status as a CCG investigator. Yet, she's staring deep and hard into his eyes, her gaze intense and unblinking. He wets his lips and runs his tongue along the back of his teeth; his throat is dry. "Say it, then."

She smiles, triumphant, and declares, with all the certainty in the world, "an insomniac caffeine-addict!"

Minato almost sags against the wall. "Oh," he says and nearly chokes on a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Ha, you got me. Guilty as charged."

.

**may (the play date interlude).**

All kinds of people visit the Naganaki Shrine -- office workers praying to the gods for a promotion or bonus at work, for their deadlines to be extended, for their manager's ire to be deflected. Students wishing for the bloom of youthful romance, for good test results, for a better personal time in their sport, for admission to their university of choice. A young girl sits, solitary, on a seesaw, watching the people come and go, searching for a familiar face. Every so often, she spots a slight young man with dark hair or a girl in a Gekkoukan uniform and her eyes light up -- only for her face to fall as she realises it's not the person she's looking for.

"Good afternoon. May I sit here?" a voice asks, and Maiko blinks, staring at the foreign-looking girl standing at the other end of the seesaw, a dark-gloved hand skimming the handle where the paint has rubbed off. Maiko nods and the other girl sits daintily down, tucking her long white-blond hair behind her ears. She's wearing a dark blue headband adorned with butterfly wings; seeing it makes Maiko sad, just a little, and makes her think of the last time she went out shopping with both her parents. Her daddy had bought her a pretty hairclip, and her mommy helped her put it on; she'd worn it every day to school until she lost it one day.

Her daddy had promised to buy her a new one. That was months ago now.

"Would you like to play?" the foreign girl asks. Maiko shakes herself out of her reverie, casting another glance towards the entrance to the shrine grounds. It's getting late in the afternoon; the nice high school students who sometimes spend time with her aren't coming today. "Okay," Maiko says.

The foreign girl nods, satisfied, then tilts her head to the side. "My sister told me that is what humans do when they come to these grounds of play," she says, pronouncing the last word carefully. "But I'm afraid I don't know how to use this equipment."

"Huh?" Maiko frowns at her. "You mean the seesaw? You just ... you know, go up and down on it." She pushes off the ground with her legs and the other girl gasps with surprise as she's lifted into the air. It takes a second for her to mirror Maiko's movement, to push herself off the ground -- and then as they settle into a rhythm she starts to laugh, her pale hair whipping through the air.

"I see. So this is why they call it a seesaw," she says. "One can see that which lies far into the distance as they are launched into the air -- and then it becomes sights they once 'saw' when they are back on the ground. A most artful name."

Maiko has no idea what any of that means, but she's cheered at having a new playmate for the day. They continue that way for several minutes, trying to go faster, launching themselves up with as much strength as they can muster.

"Lavenza," a voice says and the foreign girl stops, leaving Maiko in the air. Two women with silvery-white hair and striking blue dresses are waiting at the entrance of the shrine. One has her hair cropped to her jaw, wearing a dainty-looking hat; the other is in a deep blue coat and stockings despite the warming weather, her hair styled into elegant waves. "Master was wondering where you'd run off to. Come along now, we can't leave him waiting."

"Of course," the girl -- Lavenza, and even her name is pretty and princessy and makes Maiko think of fairytales -- says, and carefully steps off her end of the seesaw, lowering Maiko gently down. Standing, she smiles at Maiko, and does a little curtsy. She looks almost like a princess -- or, Maiko thinks with a thrill, also thinks of Maiko as another princess. "It seems I must take my leave. Thank you for today; it was most exciting."

The woman in the coat looks curiously at Maiko. "Who is this?"

"A new friend," Lavenza says, then touches her lips with a dark gloved hand. "Oh! How forward for me. She most kindly agreed to let me play with her today."

"Is that so?" The woman with the hat claps her gloved hands together. "How wonderful."

"Elizabeth!" the other woman says.

Lavenza nods, solemn, then turns to Maiko. "May I play with you again some other time?"

"Lavenza." This time, the woman in the coat sounds different, her voice sharper but still flatly polite; it reminds Maiko of when her mommy is scolding her in front of someone, but trying not to make it obvious. "Lavenza, desist with this. She is human. We should not be mixing in that world."

Maiko has no idea what any of that means. So, she nods at Lavenza and smiles. "Of course! We can try the swings next time. Or the slides. Or, ooh, the jungle gym!"

Lavenza smiles and bows her head. "Yes, thank you. I would like that very much," she says again, and allows herself to be led away.


	3. June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put on my artistic license robe and my exposition hat.

**june (the 7 mysteries mix).**

Whispers of strange happenings begin to spread around school.

Strange tales of how, after hours when the school grounds are almost deserted and the last few extracurricular activities are almost done for the day, voices and whispers seem to come from behind the closed doors of empty classrooms. Stories of ghosts haunting the bathrooms, of statues coming to life, of strains of music coming from the music practise room even on days when the band isn't in session. of time seemingly stopping or behaving strangely at certain hallways and corridors. Stories of students going missing, then found days later outside the school gates. 

Minami bites her lip, exchanging a glance with Saori; as members of the health committee today, it falls onto them to help bring the missing girl to the nurse's office for a checkup, while the nurse fills out paperwork and reports in her office and the teachers and administration argue amongst themselves on how to handle the situation. They abscond to the teachers' office for that, leaving Minami and Saori to look over the unconscious girl -- not that it makes much of a difference. She'd been found earlier in the morning -- lying on the ground outside the gates, glassy-eyed and slack-faced; she doesn't even respond when the nurse shines lights into her eyes and taps her knee to test her reactions and physiological responses.

The door to the infirmary creaks, and a dark-haired head peeks in. It's Minato, glancing this way and that before he steps into the room.

Saori opens her mouth to say something but Minami beats her to it, getting to her feet first.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" Minami asks, placing herself between Minato's line of sight and the girl on the sickbed.

If Minato's surprised at seeing her, he doesn't show it. His eyelids flicker slightly, but he doesn't quite blink. "Arisato-san," he says and steps inside, straightening. "What about-- right, you're in the health committee. I forgot."

"What are you doing here?" Minami asks, then flaps her hands at him. "Shoo, this isn't a circus! Let the poor girl rest! If you're just here to gawk, I'm gonna have to thump you."

Minato's eyes flick towards her, then to Saori. "I'm here out of professional interest," he says. He pats at his breast pocket, as though to withdraw something, then looks momentarily surprised and lowers his hand. "I just wanted to ask her a few questions."

Minami glances at the girl on the infirmary bed, then back to Minato. "She's unconscious," she says after the pause stretches for uncomfortably long. "She won't be answering any--"

As if on cue, the girl stirs and groans, then tries to sit up. Minami places a hand on her shoulder, easing her back down, then nods at Saori. "Let the nurse and teachers know she's woken up," she says. "I'll watch over Kuroiwa-san while you're gone."

"All right," Saori says, and leaves -- though not without studying Minato out of the corner of her eye as she goes. The door clicks shut behind her. Minato glances at the girl, now staring groggily around. 

"Well?" Minami asks, and Minato glances at her. 

"Well, what?"

"Get on with it. Whatever you're here for." Minami hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip. "Before Saori-senpai comes back with everyone."

"Really." Minato's tone is flat. "You believe me. About the professional interest thing. Why?"

Why? Why, indeed. _Because I saw you that night with a sword in your hand,_ Minami wants to say. _Because you're a dove. Because you're meant to protect people like Kuroiwa-san here from people like me._

Instead, she shrugs. "Because we're friends, right? Friends don't doubt friends. Or tell on them. Friends help each other."

"Friends, huh." Minato says, as though testing the way the word sounds. He laughs, once. "That's naive."

"Well, and if you try anything funny, I'll knock you out with that mop," Minami says, pointing to the offending implement propped to the side against the wall. "No funny business. I mean it!"

Throughout this exchange, the missing girl stays silent. She's quiet even when Minato approaches, soft-footed and with slow, careful steps. Minami watches as he pulls up a chair and pulls a small notebook out from inside one of his blazer pockets, clicking a pen a few times.

"Kuroiwa-san," he says, and his tone is surprisingly gentle, a sharp contrast to his usual murmured, sometimes surly indifference. "How are you feeling?"

He nods and listens attentively as the girl answers in slow, halting sentences, penning a few shorthand notes into his book. "I see. Thank you. What is the last thing you remember?"

"Nothing much," Kuroiwa says. She speaks hesitantly, as though uncertain of what she's saying. "I was on my way home from hanging out with some friends yesterday." Her gaze slides away, unfocused -- or evasive. "I took a different route home because I wanted to check out some place. Then ... I ... I ..." Her voice drops lower, so soft that Minami can barely hear her over the scratch of Minato's pen. 

The infirmary doors open, the school nurse leading the way, with Mr. Ekoda and the principal hot on her heels. They clamour around the girl with questions while she only stares straight in front of her with her hands folded on her lap. Only the nurse has the presence of mind to dismiss Minami; she bows at the nurse, Mr. Ekoda, and principal as she takes her leave, but none of them seem to notice -- all preoccupied with holding a hushed argument amongst themselves over how they will handle or mitigate the situation.

Minato is already outside, loitering by the door. His posture is slack; gone is the sharp attentiveness of before, replaced this time by his customary relaxed slouch -- hands in his pockets and body angled slightly back, resting his weight on one foot. Spotting Minami, he starts to walk, and Minami falls into step alongside him.

"What was that about?" she asks as they climb the stairs to the second-year classrooms. For someone who usually seems so laid-back, Minato can walk surprisingly fast; Minami has to lengthen her strides to keep pace with him. She shouldn't be that surprised, though -- after all, she's seen him vault out of a window and leap several metres through the air to land on his feet on uneven ground, handling an actual live weapon with a focused ease honed from more than just simply practising kendo. 

"Abductions," Minato says as he walks. "Disorientation. Sluggishness. Inhibited response times. Superficial injuries." He hesitates in front of the door of their classroom, one hand poised to push it open. "Do you know anything about ghouls, Arisato-san? Or ... Apathy Syndrome?"

A hot prickle of unease jolts through the pit of Minami's stomach. She's aware of Minato watching her closely, gaze focused and unblinking despite the drowsy, half-lidded look. "Well, yeah, a little. Why? What's wrong?"

He tilts his head a little and the fringe of his hair shifts slightly, just enough for her to see both his eyes. "Be careful on your way home in the evenings, Arisato-san." He slips one of his hands out of his pockets; he's holding his phone, which he flips open with his thumb. Chewing on his knuckle for a moment, he gives her a look and then taps something out onto his keypad. "This is my number. Call me if-- if something happens. If you feel unsafe."

"Oh!" Minami laughs as she brings out her own phone, keying in the number he's typed onto his screen. "Wow, Minato-kun, that's very forward for you. Giving a girl your phone number, I'm very impressed! I didn't know you're the 'secretly charismatic' kind!"

Minato doesn't smile. "Call me if you feel like you're in any danger," he says and flips his phone shut. "Be careful, Arisato-san."

.

Minami smacks her palms over the dining room table at the dorm. "The CCG suspects a ghoul attack," she says without preamble. Mitsuru glances sharply up at her.

"Explain yourself, Arisato."

"I was talking to that guy in my class, Minato Yuki, that undercover CCG investigator that helped us fight off the kakuja." Minami pauses; Mitsuru inclines her head slightly, a gesture for Minami to continue. "He was interested in questioning Kuroiwa, and then said some weird things after that. He didn't say as much outright, but I think he suspects that Kuroiwa-san was abducted by a ghoul of some kind."

"A ghoul," Mitsuru echoes and stands, pacing back and forth. Yukari and Junpei's eyes follow her; only Akihiko seems unaffected, leaning back in his seat, arms folded as he stares a hole onto the dining table before him. "But this doesn't make any sense. Ghouls ... ghouls don't tend to abduct victims and keep them alive. It makes no sense."

"He also mentioned Apathy Syndrome," Minami adds. "You were talking about it before, right, Akihiko-senpai? Back at the hospital?"

Mitsuru stops in her tracks. Silence falls in the dining area. Akihiko unfolds his arms and then leans forward over the table, locking his fingers in front of him. "Ghouls and Apathy Syndrome," he says. Over his steepled fingers, he and Mitsuru share a look. "Could it be ...?"

"Soooo, uh ... would anyone care to explain or something?" Junpei asks at last. "What does this Apathy Whatsit have to do with ghouls?"

Over at the head of the table, Ikutsuki finally presses his bookmark into place and shuts his book. "I take it that everyone is now somewhat familiar with kakuja," he says. "Now, Yukari, if you'll humour me for a bit. What exactly are kakuja?"

"Huh? Oh-- um. A d-different kind of ghoul." Yukari's voice is soft, almost a whisper. "One that has eaten other ghouls."

"Correct!" Ikutsuki claps his hands together. "Full marks. Now, for extra credit--"

"Oh, ooh, me, me, pick me, I love extra credit!" Junpei's hand shoots into the air. 

Ikutsuki nods. "Thank you, Junpei. Now, what do we know about kakuja?"

"Uh." Junpei scratches his chin. "They look wack and have weird abilities and shit, I guess."

"Yes, very, ah, succinctly put. Have you noticed how kakuja have such strange, grotesque appearances? It's because of the sheer concentration of Rc cells in their bodies -- many times that of normal ghouls -- which results in their physiology altering abnormally and taking on monstrous appearance as their kagune mutates. Some of them may grow multiple kagune, or assimilate traits from the other ghouls they have eaten. Others may form armour over themselves, or change form completely when they release their kakuhou. Some ghouls that may ordinarily already have unique abilities -- like electricity generation, or heat manipulation -- may find those traits amplified once they become a kakuja."

"Right," Junpei says slowly, drawing the word out. "So, everything about them is wack."

Ikutsuki laughs, then sobers up almost immediately. "Exactly! I mean, uh, sorry, this is a serious subject. Now, what are the commonalities of the people who have been discovered with Apathy Syndrome?"

This time, it's Akihiko who speaks up. "On a surface level, they have nothing in common -- there have been male and female victims from a wide age range, and coming from a diverse range in backgrounds. They go missing or are abducted, but then they're found in all kinds of places -- they aren't confined to any particular locality. A lot of them exhibit symptoms of fatigue, disorientation, and general sluggishness. They have no memories of anything leading up to the abduction, nor of the abduction itself."

"The name 'Apathy Syndrome' itself comes from the fact that the initial symptoms can advance in severity," Mitsuru continues. "Over time, some of the abducted victims deteriorate in condition, and lose the ability -- or some may even say, the _will_ \-- to speak, eat, sleep, move or even care for themselves. In cases like these where the ailment devolves to such a point -- the afflicted are then known as Lost."

"An excellent summary from the both of you, thank you for your contributions." Ikutsuki says, nodding. "Now, going back to our earlier topic of discussion -- do you see where I'm getting at?"

Minami frowns, screwing up her face as she thinks. "Apathy Syndrome ... may have been caused by ... a ghoul? A ghoul -- a kakuja -- with ... special abilities?"

"Excellent!" Ikutsuki gazes around the table; everyone's watching him silently, attention sharp and focused. "Though this is mostly just speculation at this point, certain agencies have been debating the possibility that Apathy Syndrome may be the result of the victims being, hm, poisoned, if you will, be some kind of neurotoxic agent."

"... is that even possible?" Yukari asks at last. Though her hands are folded on the table, Minami can see the way she's gripping them so hard the skin is white and bloodless.

"Who's to say?" Ikutsuki shrugs. "The brain is both a resilient, yet surprisingly delicate mechanism. Any alteration to its physiology can have unexpected outcomes. At any rate, these theories are still mere conjecture -- but either way, our objective is still clear. If the kakuja we've encountered are indeed the ones that have been responsible for the abductions -- and maybe even Apathy Syndrome -- then we just have to keep continuing what we've been doing, and put an end to them."

"If we operate under the assumption Apathy Syndrome is indeed caused by a ghoul, then that sheds new light on the situation." Mitsuru folds her arms, her brow furrowed. "The fact that a ghoul ... no, a kakuja can control its instinctive compulsion to devour its victim, instead just leaving them with whatever superficial injuries it inflicted in order to transmit the affliction ... we're dealing with a dangerous foe."

Junpei leans back on his chair, balancing on its rear legs. "Y'think the Apathy Syndrome kakuja has anything to do with the two we've faced so far? The bazillion-armed one and the, uh, the sexy-- uh, latest one from last month?"

Silence falls around the table. Everyone turns to look at Junpei and he fidgets, a little, beneath their scrutiny. "W-what? Somethin' I said? Wait, what did I say?"

"Huh. I think Iori could be on to something." The beginnings of a grin slides to the corner of Akihiko's mouth.

"Y-yeah!" Junpei pumps his fist, then squawks when he nearly unbalances himself, arms windmilling in the air as he attempts to right himself. Minami grabs him by the wrist before he can topple over, pulling him back down. The front legs of his chair thud down against the carpet. "Yeah," he says again and clears his throat. "I mean, how many kakuja can there be, right?"

"Don't say stuff like that," Yukari says, her voice sharp. "You're gonna jinx us all!"

"Man, whatever," Junpei says and waves, dismissive. "What's the worst that can happen? No matter how many kakuja come crawlin' outta the woodwork, we'll give 'em the good ol' one-two and show 'em what's what. Huh? Huh?"

" _Junpei!_ "

.

Over the course of the week, more students go missing from the school -- and all mysteriously found, days later, unconscious at the foot of the school gates. It's all the class can talk about -- even when the teachers and administration try in vain to quell all the gossip and speculation.

"Everyone around here still keeps thinkin' it's that whole Seven Mysteries schtick that all schools have," Junpei whispers in an undertone one lunchtime. "But we know the truth. Right, Yuka-tan?"

Yukari gives him a particularly withering glare. "Keep it down."

"All this sittin' around, shit sucks." Junpei yawns and stretches, arms straightened out over his head as he leans back as far as he can go. "No way we're gonna find any leads or get the root of this particular mystery just waiting for shit to happen. We gotta investigate, ya know, be proactive! Who knows how many other people these kakuja bastards are attacking?"

"Wow, Junpei, I never thought I'd hear the word 'proactive' out of you." Yukari sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Anyway, do you even hear yourself? Finding leads? Getting to the root of the mystery? You think you're some hard-boiled detective now, or something?"

"Hell yeah." Junpei flourishes his hands out in front of him in a little arc. "Just call me Junpei Iori: Ace Detective."

"Pfft, more like Stupei: Ace Defective."

"Hey!" Junpei presses a hand to his heart. "I resent that. But your mean and totally not necessary and hurtful words aside, don'cha think it's kinda funny how people still like coming up with all these crazy urban myths and shit, considering ghouls exist and are out there, probably goin' to the same shops as they do, hangin' out at the same places they do?"

"What," Yukari says, and closes and then opens her eyes very slowly, "the hell are you talking about?"

Junpei looks around him, then beckons for both Yukari and Minami to lean in closer. "I mean, I know you're a ghoul, and you know I'm a ghoul, and Mina-tan knows we're ghouls, and we know Mina-tan's a ghoul -- but a weird one with only one kakugan, ack, don't worry Mina-tan, you're weird but in a cool way -- but, like, imagine. Imagine if we were human, and had no idea that the person next to us was a ghoul. Imagine if I was, I dunno ..." His gaze wanders around the classroom, setting on Kenji and Minato in conversation. Or, more accurately, Kenji talking while Minato stands in his general vicinity with a glassy-eyed look, nodding occasionally. "... imagine if you were Tomochika or Yuki over there, and had zero idea that right now, this moment, this instant, you're in the same classroom as three ghouls. Er. Two and a half ghouls? Wack, right?"

Yukari stares at him for several seconds. "Junpei, what the--"

"He's got a point," Minami says, swirling her vending machine coffee. The liquid sloshes around the inside of the can.

Junpei thumps her on the back, hard enough that Minami almost drops her coffee. "Attagirl, Mina-tan, you tell her! At least someone here has my back. You really know who your true friends are."

"Really?" Yukari glances between them. "You mean you could make sense of that nonsense he was babbling about just now?"

"No, no, not that." Minami shakes her head with a sharp jerk, as though trying to dislodge a bug. "Forget all that, I have no idea what he was talking about, either."

"Mina-tan!"

"I meant earlier, when he said we should take charge and be proactive and try to piece together what clues we have. We're probably the only ones in this school who have any idea that Apathy Syndrome and ghouls could be linked."

Oh." Yukari stares at her for several seconds. "Oh, no, Minami, not you too."

"No, listen, hear me out. One of the other girls that went missing the other day ... Yukari, you said you saw her, right? Didn't you say she's friends with the other students that went missing?"

"Yeah," Yukari says, hesitant. "I guess you wouldn't know too much about it since you transferred in, but that bunch have been friends since middle school. Hanging around like a pack, always picking on people. I've heard they've fallen in with a ... certain kinda crowd."

Minami clicks her fingers together. "There we have it, a common thread linking them."

"You think so?" Yukari shakes your head. "What, you think that maybe they're being targeted? Junpei's stupid--"

"Hey! It's not stupid, you wanna bet on that?"

"--stupid theory about there being other ghouls around here might even make some sense?"

"I don't know." Minami draws in a deep breath. "I just think we should try looking into it, rather than just wait for them to attack again."

"Hmm." Yukari folds her arms, propping herself against Junpei's desk. "What makes everyone so certain that there are more kakuja like the two we fought, just running wild in broad daylight, free to do whatever they want?"

"The Apathy Syndrome cases aren't decreasing in number even after we got rid of the other two," Minami points out. "And the CCG haven't been able to pin them down, either."

"More of them, huh." Yukari subsides into silence, her mouth set in an unhappy line. "It's not going to end anytime soon ... is it?"

Minami has no reply to that. Her vending machine coffee suddenly tastes too bitter.

.

**june (the boondocks interlude).**

Things just go from bad to worse. Who knew that fighting against humans can be so difficult?

Junpei dodges another punch aimed at him, ducking to the side. The thug aiming at him growls in frustration and swings again, a wide and sweeping gesture that Junpei sidesteps easily. "Quit dancin' around and fight like a man," the thug leers. Junpei swallows.

"Uh, n-no thanks," he says, taking a step back. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Yukari and Minami standing shoulder-to-shoulder; Yukari's gripping Minami's wrist so tightly that her knuckles strain in sharp white knots against her skin. Minami touches her hand to the back of Yukari's, a placating gesture.

It would be so easy. So easy to unleash his kakuhou, to let the energy flow raw and unrestrained through his body. Deflecting the blows with the heavy shell of his koukaku is no big deal; though unwieldly, he can easily bring the broad, flat edge slicing up in the same motion, parting skin and flesh and sinew, spilling the guts of all these humans over the ground of their precious 'turf'. Humans are all the same; humans know nothing of living a ghoul's life, constantly on the knife's edge of hunger and bloodshed.

"The fuck are you starin' at with that stupid look on your face? You wanna die?" the delinquent snarls. Minami's hand plucks at the back of Junpei's jacket, but he doesn't need her reminder. The last thing he needs is to draw the attention of the CCG to this dingy little hideout.

Fortunately, a savior comes before things can escalate too badly. A towering young man with a vaguely familiar face, glowering wordlessly at the rest of the back-alley punks. Face cut and sectioned by harsh jags of light and shadow, his eyes look almost red; he radiates a quiet and deadly intent without moving a muscle.

_Holy shit,_ Junpei thinks as the punk that was antagonising him backs down. _That's so cool._

"Holy shit," he says out loud once the delinquents have scattered. "That's so cool."

Several things happen then. The tension diffuses; Yukari apologises to the newcomer while Minami squares her shoulders and meets his glare boldly, announcing they came here to investigate the Gekkoukan disappearances for themselves.

If anything, the stranger is almost taken aback by Minami's confrontational stare and the challenging set to her jaw. Finally, he seems to relent, shoulders relaxing in a shrug. "Whatever, I don't have time for this shit. Try the school. You've got this latest disappearance ass-backwards," he says at last, after several more seconds of stonily glaring into Minami's eyes.

To her credit, she refuses to back down under the glower that dispersed an entire group of back-alley punks. "How so?"

"Buncha those girls came around here talkin' shit, bragging about how they locked this other girl in the school -- and now it seems she's disappeared, too."

"Okay." Minami's eyes narrow slightly. "So we just have to look for her too. What about this is backwards? What are we missing?"

The stranger stares at her, brow furrowed in a scowl. "She wasn't abducted by a ghoul, if that's what you're wondering. _She's_ the ghoul."

.

**june (the whisper of the heart interlude).**

Voices in the walls. Calling her name, calling the names of people she knows. 

The girl straightens, trembling as she tugs at the hand of another taller, glassy-eyed girl following in her wake. "C-come on, Moriyama-san," she says and quickens her pace. The other girl follows meekly, stumbling over her own feet. 

The voices in the wall grow louder, softer, sometimes indistinct, sometimes a clarion call in her head. The short-haired girl stops and drops to her knees, curling into a ball and huddling into herself. "No. No! Stay back. Get away from us!"

"No ..." Stopping where she stands, the Moriyama turns her face towards her, her stare vacant and unseeing. "Fuuka ... I have to tell you ... sorry ... I'm sorry ..."

The first girl's head jerks up. She stumbles slightly on her feet, supporting her weight against the wall. Her bulky koukau, fanned out behind her in a crescent, wavers. "N-no, not you, Moriyama-san. Please--! You have to follow me! I-it's dangerous. We have to get out of here!"

"Fuuka ..." Moriyama smiles, a dazed and unseeing look. She shuffles forward, her steps slow and heavy and faltering, the shambling gait of a dreamer. "I have to tell her--"

The voices are closer now, scratching against the inside of the girl's skull. "No," she says again and grabs Moriyama's hand. "C-come on, let's go, let's get out of here," she says, trying to hide the tremour in her voice. One hand set firmly against the wall, breaks into a run. Eyes unseeing, Moriyama trips after her on clumsy feet.

Rounding the corner, she nearly runs into someone; a combination of surprise, fear, and hunger weakens and unbalances her and she falls to her knees -- throwing up her hand at the last moment to hide her uncovered face. She spots a glimpse of a mask with perfectly chiseled features crowned, inexplicably, by a shock of long golden hair -- and behind the mask, a single bright red kakugan. She scrambles upright and presses back against the wall, pinning Moriyama behind her. "S-stay back!" she says, trying to keep the tremour out of her voice. "D-don't come any closer, o-or I'll--"

The ghoul lowers his arm and with it, his heavy armour-plated koukaku. "Fuuka Yamagishi," he says, and something explodes out of the gymnasium doors.

In one fluid movement, the one-eyed ghoul reaches down, hoisting Moriyama onto his back and dragging Fuuka upright at the same time. "Run," he snarls into her ear and, shaking, Fuuka follows after him, zigzagging through the school hallway and out towards the courtyard.

.

**june (the power and authority mix).**

The sound of shattering glass draws Minami's attention towards the school courtyard -- just in time to see a blur of movement hurtling out through the broken door. Akihiko emerges first, koukaku braced before him to deflect the worst of the broken windows; tripping after him on unsteady feet is a smaller, slighter form, stumbling down the steps before buckling to its knees. 

Behind them looms a vast shadow, moving deceptively quickly despite its size, a broad, defensive-looking kagune slamming into the flagstones where Akihiko had been standing moments before -- followed by a spray of shots that embed themselves into the ground at his feet.

Yukari stops in her tracks. "Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me," she says; she sounds deceptively calm despite the spectacle unfolding before them -- a marked improvement, Minami thinks, to her reaction to the previous kakuja they've fought prior. "Why is it always us that gets stuck dealing with this crap?!"

Minami tries to smile -- though she knows Yukari can't see her face behind her mask. "In for a penny, in for a pound?" she says, trying to sound cheerful. 

The dust settles slightly -- and now, Minami can make out the shadow of two shapes in the dark. One tall and lanky, the other broad and portly.

"Aw, sweet! Two of them," Junpei says and straightens, rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles. "How 'bout it, Mina-tan? Some friendly competition between you and me? We'll settle this leadership thing once and for all, what say you? I'll take the tall guy, you can take the fat lady--"

"Oh _god_ ," Yukari says and begins to laugh. There's a slightly manic edge to her voice now. "There's _two_ of them."

"Quiet!" Minami says and kicks through a window to break it so they can get out. She'll apologise to the administration tomorrow, though she doesn't know how to even begin to explain herself -- but for now, more pressing issues await. She runs out to meet Akihiko halfway in the middle of the courtyard, Junpei and Yukari following at her heels. There, Akihiko slides the girl he's carrying off his back -- and into the arms of the other slighter girl that'd been following him. This close, Minami can see the bright crimson glow of her kakugan -- though the girl's maskless face is pale and drawn and bloodless, tight and pinched with fear. "Fuuka Yamagishi?"

The girl nods, then tightens her arms around the unconscious girl in her arms, drawing her close. Her kagune closes around them in a protective arc; the bold and bright patterns along it look like many eyes glaring in the dark. "Please," she says and her voice is soft, halting. "I can't fight, but ... I ..." She looks away, eyes downcast. "I-I'll look after her."

A jumble of questions bursts into the forefront of Minami's mind -- but that can wait. She nods and moves to stand in front of Fuuka, while Akihiko bobs slightly on the balls of his feet, body tight and coiled and ready to spring; Yukari crouches slightly, tension in every line of her body while Junpei stands straight, the broad winglike blade of his koukaku extending down his arm.

"Leader," Akihiko says and Minami doesn't miss the way Junpei's head angles slowly towards her. Only Yukari remains still, staring straight ahead of her. "What're your orders?"

Minami leans her weight back on one foot, tapping her front foot against the ground. "Polydeuces, Hermes, you take the short one -- she's got an ukaku, so you two should be able to handle her. Io and I will take the tall one with the bikaku and try shooting him down from far. Force them into the middle of the courtyard and pincer them in, don't let them escape or use anything for cover -- we can't afford to drag this out when the chance of collateral damage--" here, she nods at Fuuka and Moriyama, "--are high."

"You sure?" Junpei begins, but Akihiko shakes his head. "Roger that, Orpheus."

At first, Minami has her doubts -- against commanding a coordinated pincer attack, against the odds of engaging two kakuja at once. Yet, as the female kakuja shrieks first with frustration as Junpei and Akihiko weather her attacks -- and then with pain and fury as they rush in, closing in on her. Minami starts to feel cautiously optimistic, even as Yukari corner the lankier kakuja, taking turns to weather him down.

Forced to the centre of the courtyard, both kakuja stand back to back. Unease settles into the pit of Minami's stomach but she presses forward anyway, Yukari leaping in from high as Minami comes in low. This time, the tall kakuja twitches his bikaku, raises it -- and then absorbs the volley of shots from both their ukaku; surprised, Minami skids and stumbles, unbalanced, nearly crashing into Yukari. On the other side, Junpei swears explosively as the other kakuja fires back with her own ukaku -- piercing through the edges of his koukaku before Akihiko grabs him by the back of the jacket, dragging him back.

"Wh-what the shit!" Junpei yells. "What's going on?"

"Wait!" Fuuka stands, knees almost knocking together, hands clasped together and head bowed as though in prayer; her brow is furrowed with concentration, face covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The eyes-spot marking on her koukaku seem to cast their baleful, lurid gaze all around. "They feel different!" She quails slightly as many pairs of eyes focus upon her. "I ... I can see now-- they can both use different types of kagune! B-but I can help you ... um, I think-- ah! I see ... from their Rc cell concentrations -- I think I can tell when they'll switch things up again--"

"Well, well. Things just got interesting," Akihiko says; even though she can't see his face, Minami can sense the eagerness in his voice. "Sorry to have to throw you into the deep end like that, Yamagishi, but we'll explain later." He settles into a preparatory position, his typical boxing stance, light on his feet and ready to spring. Behind his mask, Minami can see the gleam of his kakugan. "This is gonna be good."

.

**june (the past/present interlude).**

Fighting with the newbies is an exhilarating experience.

It's completely different from the times when he used to fight with Shinji and Mitsuru in the past. Back then, they'd always worked seamlessly, silently, so familiar with one another and their fighting styles that there's no need for words, for excess action. Akihiko weathering hits with his koukaku as Shinji sweeps in low with his bikaku, unbalancing their target while Mitsuru attacks from up high, her ukaku solidifying into crystalline shards that freeze and immobalise the opponent's kagune and kakuhou so that Akihiko can shatter them.

With Arisato, Iori, and Takeba, it's different -- they lack the practised and polished ease of the teamwork Akihiko's used to, but bring with them raw, reckless power and abilities that can shore the gaps in S.E.E.S' existing offense. Takeba, with the thin, slicing blades of her ukaku and Iori with the broad wing-blade of his koukaku that can serve both as sword and shield; Arisato and her--

\--dual kakuhou and kagune. Akihiko watches, stunned, as she keels to her knees and topples over, the lashing coils of rinkaku that she'd never exhibited before dissipating into the air. For a moment, the falling figure, the fearful and uncomprehending look in her eyes -- it's all achingly familiar, bringing him back to almost a decade earlier, a girl reaching out for him with the same uncertain expression on her face.

"Mi--" he begins and tries to step forward, but finds he can't move.

"Minami!" Takeba leaps past him and hits runs towards her, catching Minami before she falls.

.

**june (the halcyon interlude).**

Fuuka is quiet at first, trembling as the reality and gravity of the situation hits her. Yukari doesn't blame her one bit; it's not as if her reaction to the first kakuja had been any better, any braver.

It's late by the time they clean up the worst of the rubble and destruction they've wrought on the school courtyard; Yukari spends the entire time glancing over her shoulder, half-expecting the CCG to ram the school gates down and detain them all. Yet, nothing of the sort happens and they escape unaccosted; Yukari only breathes easy once they're out of the school grounds -- it's only a matter of time before the CCG picks up on all the ghoul activity in the area and comes swooping in to investigate, and she has no intention of being anywhere nearby when they do come.

Earlier, they arrived at the school with four people and now they depart with four people -- and two unconscious ones. Akihiko hesitates before hefting Moriyama up, leaving Junpei to carry Minami. For once in his life, Junpei does the smart thing and doesn't say anything about that, though something about his expression gives her pause -- dark and clouded and yet uncertain even as he lifts Minami onto his back, propping her up so she won't roll off.

The walk back of the dorm feels even longer and more laborious; they have to pause several times, finally making a stop at a twenty-four hour convenience store where Akihiko treats them to coffee. Fuuka downs three cups before some of the colour returns to her cheeks. Yukari sips at her own, warming her hands against the sides. "Fuuka-chan," she says, falling into step beside her. "Can I ask you a question?"

Fuuka murmurs an assent. Yukari takes a breath. "I'm sorry. I have to ask -- what were you doing at the school? Everyone thought you were missing."

"Huh?" Fuuka's eyes are wide and round.

"Have you heard of Apathy Syndrome?" Akihiko asks at last. He shifts Moriyama's weight on his back slightly, and her head lolls against his shoulder; she's still unconscious -- a worrying detail. Fuuka's expression doesn't shift at first -- then slowly changes to a dawning horror as Akihiko continues talking. She shakes her head wildly, so hard it ruffles her hair.

"N-no! I wasn't the one abducting and attacking those girls!" Her grip tightens against her takeaway coffee cup, threatening to squeeze the paper and cardboard flat. "I was looking for them!"

"Why is that?" Akihiko asks. "Not doubting you, but ... well, given what we've heard about what they were doing to you, it's ..." His gaze slides away. "Even humans have been pushed to the brink by bullies."

"Akihiko-senpai," Yukari says. She regrets this line of questioning; she regrets even bringing it up. This is't the sort of payment Fuuka deserves for helping them turn the tide of the previous battle. 

"No," Fuuka says again, her voice steadier this time. "He's right. I look suspicious, I ... I need to explain myself." She draws Junpei's blazer more tightly around her shoulders, taking a deep breath. "Everything you've heard is true. They locked me in school overnight, but I managed to escape -- and that's when I started to hear them."

"Hear what?" Yukari asks, even though she already knows the answer.

"Those voices in the walls and in my head." Fuuka shivers. "Those kakuja. I started sensing them around the city the past few weeks, but I could never really tell where they were -- not until recently, when they started hiding out in the school."

"Shit," Junpei says. He slurps at the last of his coffee and lobs the takeaway cup into a trashcan. A clean shot. "Looks like my theory from last week was right. Yuka-tan, pony up -- looks like I won our bet."

"Zip it, Stupei." The old, reflexive response gives Yukari some peace, some anchor in a world that's starting to make less sense to her by the day.

Fuuka continues as though she doesn't hear them, still nursing her cup of coffee. "Those kakuja ... I could hear them. They were talking about ... hunting. Stalking their prey. The targets they were talking about ... it sounded like those girls who'd been hassling me." She pauses, chewing on her bottom lip. "So I ... I decided to come back and hide as well. Stake them out and try to get in the way of their plans. I-I know I can't fight!" she adds, glancing around them, "but I can feel where they are -- kinda -- and avoid them. And each time they attacked someone, I went to look for their victim and took them away and hid them until ... until morning, when I knew there'd be lots of people to find them. Those kakuja got so angry ..." Her voice drops to a murmur. "They were angry at ... at me for stealing their prey, for being in their territory ... they didn't think anyone would dare to interfere, but I couldn't--"

Yukari falls still, stopping in her tracks. "Wait. So ... you mean you were the one rescuing them? The one that left them in front of the school?"

"Um." Fuuka fidgets with her fingers. "Yes? I-I couldn't just show up myself while those kakuja were still on the loose and might go on attacking more people -- who knows what they'd have done to the victims if they came back for them?" She looks up, spots of colour blazing in her cheekbones. "I ... I couldn't just stand by and let all those people get hurt!"

"Not even after they did all that shit to you?" Junpei asks, his voice soft. 

She meets his gaze for several seconds, then looks away. "No," she says quietly. "They're ... they're human. Maybe they could sense something off or different about me, I don't know -- but I envied them for that. I wished I could be like them, I wished I could belong -- but not once, not ever, did I ever want to hurt or wish harm on them."

"Shit," Junpei says again and kicks a nearby lamppost. "Goddamit. Why do humans have to be so damn cruel? Doin' that kinda shit to someone else, it's not funny, man. Even if they think you're human, even if they don't know you're a ghoul, shit's not right."

Fuuka shrugs, a small and sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "It's fine," she says. "I ... I'm used to it, anyway."

"Doesn't mean it's right." Junpei's expression is dark again, closed-off and unreadable. He's silent the rest of the way back to the dorm.

.

**june (the pathos mix).**

Minato is amongst the contingent of CCG first responders to the scene, hitching a ride with Officer Kurosawa from the police. The courtyard is cordoned off with hazard tape by the time they arrive; Aigis is standing over the bodies of the kakuja, studying the corpses with a bland and incurious expression, writing something down in a notebook as she traces a slow circle around them.

"Two this time. Empress and her partner, Emperor. Inseparable to the end," Aigis says once she's done, buttoning her regulation coat up to her throat and cinching the belt more snugly around her waist despite the warmth of the approaching morning. She looks pristine and polished, as though she goes to sleep in her uniform, lying perfectly still so as not to create a single wrinkle or have a single hair fall out of place. "The fact that high-ranked kakuja from the Monad Depths are breaching containment so regularly is ... uncustomary."

"Have there been any changes to the Dark Hour's security protocols?" Minato asks out of the corner of his mouth.

"Negatory." Aigis tucks her hands into her pocket. The flashing blue and red emergency lights gives her skin a ghastly, otherworldly cast. "Daily review of the surveillance and access logs has not revealed any new personnel."

"An inside job, then." Minato squats on his heels, leaning in to better inspect the bodies of the two kakuja. They bear familiar injuries he's seen before -- fine, thin slashes, some barely surface-level cuts barely enough to draw blood and others deeper but still neat and narrow, scarcely parting the flesh; the heavy and uneven gouges and furrows from a larger, bulkier kagune, presumably one its owner doesn't have much experience in controlling. Those must be the handiwork of the two ghouls he's seen before, the ones from the train last month -- but that's not all. The bodies bear other marks, too -- bruising and blunt force trauma from a different kind of koukaku where it's split through the kakuja's armour, and the cracks where it's been prised apart by the tentacles of a rinkaku. In both cases, the cause of death is clear -- from the entry and exit wounds, he can determine that the two kakuja were standing back-to-back, impaled through at the same time. "... looks like those ghouls got some backup this time."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No, nothing." Minato shakes his head and straightens. "I guess school will be closed for the rest of the week."

Aigis pauses. "You sound disappointed."

"Do I?" Minato catches a glimpse of himself in one of the intact windows. He's gotten so used to seeing himself in the Gekkoukan uniform that his reflection in the stark white regulation coat of a CCG inspector looks almost unfamiliar. "Well, whatever."

.

Arisato is missing when the school reopens, leaving in her absence a gap like one left behind by a missing tooth.

Minato would fear the worst, were Iori and Takeba not in attendance. He can feel their scrutiny when they think he isn't looking; once or twice, he catches their eyes -- only for them to look away the next moment. Perhaps in a different time, in a different place, had he followed Arisato's guidance and befriended them -- he'd be able to ask them about her. 

The days pass by. The number of Apathy Syndrome disappearances decreases.

He joins a culture club once they open for admission -- out of a strange deference to the absent Arisato. If Minato thought having to concentrate on composition and aesthetics would take his mind off Arisato's disappearance, he's wrong. All he can think about is the dazed and uncertain girls he interviewed at Tatsumi Memorial Hospital, their eyes dim and unfocused as they answer his questions.

Something thumps his back as he's hunkered over his camera, trying to get a good long-distance landscape shot of Tatsumi Port Island from the school roof. Minato turns his head slowly -- and then finds his cheek pressed against the cold wall of an aluminium can.

"Hi," Arisato says and sits down next to him. Her hair's tied lower today, neck ribbon not at its usual jaunty angle. She looks tired, the shadows ringing her eyes. "Wow, photography club? I'm glad you took some initiative without me!"

"Where were you?" Minato asks. She ignores him and gestures for the camera; he passes it over, unhooking the strap off his neck.

"Wow." Arisato flips through the photos on the camera's memory, pursing her lips. Minato's aware of his own lack of talent with photography. Physical combat and endurance, battle tactics, rudimentary negotiation, hazard and emergency responding, angle velocity and the physics of movement -- those are the areas he excels in. Artistic and literary composition and creativity are areas in which he's sadly lacking. It's not as if he's ever had to worry about them before. From her furrowed brow, Minato knows what photos Arisato is looking at -- the awkward, off-centred shots of still-lifes, the attempted nature photography of Port Island's urban landscaping a blurry mash of green and brown; the pictures of people entering or exiting the frames, bodies cut apart by the camera angle. "Wow," she says again. "These are terrible!"

"Thanks," Minato says. "I took them myself. Now, my turn. Where have you been?"

Again, she ignores him, scrolling through more photos -- before backtracking to one. She holds the camera up, pointing at the screen. "This one's nice," she says. It's Yamagishi and Moriyama from 2-E, talking in the hallway, facing each other but separated by an arm's width of distance. Silhouetted by the golden light of the afternoon, it's a half-decent shot. "It's a nice, candid sorta photo. Maybe this can be your thing. You know, I didn't think you'd be into this, but I can definitely see potential. What about art or music, though? Have you ever thought about trying them?"

On his phone, Minato pulls up a photo he'd taken of one of the art pieces he'd made when trying out a day at the art club. Arisato doesn't say anything, but her wince speaks volumes.

"Oh, uh." She tilts his phone this way and that, trying to make sense of the picture. Minato feels almost sorry for her. "It's, um, very ... interesting ..."

"Thanks. I drew it myself." Minato studies his drawing as well. He has no idea what he was thinking when he drew it. "It's the scream of my pathos. Yo, dude."

"I-I see." Arisato grins into her hand; for a moment, Minato is relieved; it's the first smile he's seen her crack since he last saw her. "Yeah, I can totally see it!"

She's a terrible liar. Minato takes his phone back.

"What about music?"

Minato shakes his head. He doesn't like band or orchestral music much; something about them sets his nerves on edge, stirring a distant memory at the back of his mind -- of blue walls and blue carpets and blue ceilings, of the distant strains of a classical aria played on the piano, of a woman's voice raised in an echoing, soaring soprano that reverberates in his skull. "I can play the triangle, I guess."

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it this far: thank you! Thanks for reading my first foray back into fanfiction in years, I hope it doesn't quite show how rusty I am.  
> And I am, as the kids these days would say, back at it with my bullshit self-indulgent AUs that nobody asked for, which appeal to the broad audience of me, myself, I, some lint, a piece of string, some gum under the table, and a tangled shoelace.
> 
> Truth be told, I've been sitting on Persona/Tokyo Ghoul AUs since 2015 -- the whole aspect of personas as masks and as integral parts of the player characters' identities (and my own love for gratuitous cannibalism, I guess) struck a chord in me. Thus, I humbly offer a project left for many years to simmer on the backburner as I fretted about touching it and mixing a 15yo fandom with another fandom past its heyday.
> 
> Feel free to yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/beiimare) or [tumblr](http://quietspell.tumblr.com) if you feel like telling me I have bad taste.


End file.
